The Demon Room
by ThePlotMurderers
Summary: The Baudes and Quags face new enemies, meet new friends, and discover some startling truths while trapped in the fortress of a lunatic biologist. Fifth book in A Series of Queer Events.
1. Chapter 1

The Demon Room

Disclaimer: With a delay like this on my hands, there are many things I should be guilty about. None of which is owning _A Series of Unfortunate Events._

A/N: Sorry, folks, for the delay. It's been a busy summer, with a good deal of get-togethers, papers—Machiavelli is an ass—and the curse of writer's block. But never fear my bold, bold reader! Because, this fine day August the nineteenth, 2011, The Plot Murderers release the first three chapters of _The Demon Room,_ Book Five of _A Series of Queer Events._

We'd like to thank Gypsy Rosalie, and anyone else for sticking by us through _five books. _Fans and favorites like yours always manage to keep us going.

And now for the synopsis:

In this lovely parody of _The Reptile Room_, we will see mad scientists, ghosts, storms, romance, murder, and characters of a sort that we will never think of Daniel Handler the same way again. Also, marvel as the writer's manage to break one of the most sacred rules of the writing trade. What rule shall it be? You'll find out, if you read this chapter.

Ready?

Get set—

GO!

Chapter 1, 'Twas a Dark and Stormy Night; And All That Other Jazz—

Lemony Snicket Land has, for the most part, been completely mapped out.

Unfortunately, our story starts in one of the uncharted parts of Snicket Land. Let's see what it is, shall we?

The rain was coming down very hard on the thick forest. There was gusting wind, rolling thunder and crashing lighting. The limbs of trees waved about like the arms of madmen and—well—that's enough about the storm, let's move down to the forest floor.

Scrambling up the muddy slope were two figures, one's head was shrouded in red flame, another's head was a shock of white and blue.

These two forms struggled, groaning and moaning, to get to their destination. A destination they had a very vague idea about.

On the path, one of them tripped up a tree root and fell, sprawled out on the muddy ground, her fiery hair nearly put out by the pouring rain.

"Isadora!" the blue figure bent to the aid of his sister, "Are you all right?"

"No." Isadora replied, "Duncan, I think I've twisted an ankle. You have to find help."

Duncan was immediately worried, "Help? Sister dear, for the first point, the populous of the world think we're murderers. For the second point, we're in the bloody middle of nowhere!"

Isadora looked at him, steely eyed, "Duncan. There has to be some cottage or farm or something out here! And if there is one: you're blue. People aren't going to recognize you as 'the evil Christmas Eve murderer'. Please Duncan, I'm very weak. I can't last much longer."

Duncan looked at her solemnly and grasped her hand, "Of course, sister. But, are you sure I can't help you stand?"

"No, Duncan. I don't want you to get hurt too. Now please, go! And try to remember where I am."

Duncan nodded quickly, "Of course, of course! I'll be back in a speck! I mean sec! See you presently!"

He dashed over the ridge and out of sight.

Isadora just hoped she would see him again.

Their parents. They had to find their parents. They had to find 'The Realm of the Serpent'. That was where the answers were. That was where she would find them.

* * *

><p>"What does the map say again?" Plot Murderer #1 asked me as I drove down the empty road.<p>

"It says you have to shut up!" I replied.

We had been going on a vacation to celebrate four books in our series being completed. Unfortunately, I had no idea where in hell we were.

"I think we're lost." PM1 stated the obvious.

"I think you should hand me the map." I stared at him, guiding the car to the shoulder.

My brother gave me the map of Snicket Land. It nearly filled the car.

"Okay." I began scrutinizing the map, "We're going to B*tchy Beach via Lunatic Lane."

"Are we even still on Lunatic Lane?"

"Shut up! As I was saying: Lunatic Lane goes east through the Dark Forest. Ah! We're in the Dark

Forest! We just took the wrong road off of Lunatic Lane. But that's no matter. We can just turn around—"

Then, as often happens in my dreadfully dreadful life, the car died.

Immediately, PM1 started enacting his favorite pastime of freaking out on me, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! We're gonna die! What's going on? I can't die out here! I haven't seen this year's E3! Oh no!" He started his other brilliant act of pretending to sob into the glove compartment.

"Hush, will you?" I tried to remain calm, "The battery probably just died. But that doesn't mean we can't drive to the nearest gas—"

I pulled the gas. Nothing happened.

"—station." I finished, morose.

"What is it now?" PM1 lifted his head from my emergency Kleenex.

"We're out of gas."

"Thank you!" he shouted to the heavens, "We're gonna drown in this storm, all alone, without any food or water! Isn't everything just peaches and cream? Of course it is! Why wouldn't it be? My life is over!"

"Calm down!" I slapped him, "Now, you stay right here. Call me if anything goes wrong."

"What?"

"I'm gonna find a gas station. And a mechanic as well, I suppose. I'm going to head back to Lunatic Lane and see if I can find one."

I put on my trusty jacket and, handy umbrella in hand, I walked down the road.

* * *

><p>Another odd party traveling through the rainy forest that night were the three Baudelaire orphans. We all know who they are, don't we? But for those that can't remember—and I don't blame you if you can't—here is a little summary of them:<p>

Violet: Fourteen year old inventor

Klaus 'Chubs': Twelve year old researcher

Sunny: Two year old psycho

As we also know, they had escaped the Hinterlands in a caravan pulled by two lions. Currently, Violet was steering the lions through the rain while Chubs and Sunny ate a meal of dry toast inside.

"Filthy night, isn't it?" Chubs remarked to his baby sister.

"Gueeg." Sunny shrugged. As you probably also know, Sunny is a baby and talks either in

unintelligible gibberish or fragments of actual English. For instance, 'Gueeg' means, 'I don't really

care. I'm too miserable to notice anything but the deep, deep pools of blackness that consume me.'

Chubs stared at her and looked down at his hands.

Three months earlier, in a rushed attempt to keep himself, the Quagmires and Violet alive, they had each received some sort of mutation.

Isadora had gained hair of fire; Duncan had gained the body temperature of the average

iceberg; Violet had gained silver hair and telekinesis to go with it; and Chubs had been turned into a tall, dark and handsome super model.

Recently, their long-lost aunt had given them four bottles of antidote for the mutation. One for him, one for Violet and the other two for Isadora and Duncan when, and if, they were found.

Violet had already taken her antidote. Her brain had lost all hypersensitive reactivity and her hair had been restored to dark brown.

Chubs looked at his sister, "Well, I'm going to have to pop down that antidote. This bulky form shall annoy me no more!"

Chubs took his own bottle from the cupboard and downed it all in one gulp. Immediately, he felt a shudder pass through him.

"I'll be right back." he managed to groan, popping into the caravan bathroom: a small closet-like space in the back.

Sunny contented to listen to Chubs' retching, as she contemplated the teeth marks in the dining table, left, of course, by her lethal teeth.

* * *

><p>Violet sat at the reins of the caravan, looking ahead of her into the murky blackness of the forest. She didn't know where they were going. All she did know was that they couldn't stay were they were.<p>

They had left the Hinterlands a bit of a while ago and now Violet placed that they were somewhere in the Filliping Forest of Tulson Wood.

They were quite far from any actual people, or a road, for that matter.

Well, she was sure that she would find something eventually.

I was not faring well in my hapless quest to find the gas station. Actually that was an understatement.

I had no idea at all where I was going. I was wet, cross and uncomfortable, and of course the only source of light was the occasional clap of lighting.

Suddenly, I saw a rather different sort of light. Artificial light, shining over the trees. I began to do my 'Victory Dance':

"Woo! Woo! I'm not gonna die! I'm not gonna die! Woo! Woo!"

I turned around and saw a deer giving me a weird look.

"Ah." I sighed, realizing what an ass I was making of myself, "Well, pressing on!"

I dashed up the hill towards the light. Truly, I had never been more relieved then I was in that moment.

But, that relief would soon turn to horror of the utmost terrible-ness-ess-es-sss.

* * *

><p>Duncan too, was feeling relief as he reached a habitation at last.<p>

It was a house. Okay, it was a big house. An ENORMOUS house. Perhaps there was someone here who could help him.

Now, there are some people in the world who are eccentric: Vlad the Impaler, Cleopatra, Lady Gaga etc.

Then again, there are some people who are eccentric and totally insane. Evidently, this house belonged to one of the 'totally insane' eccentrics. The entire front yard of the ENORMOUS house was made up of tile sculptures of snakes.

Big snakes, small snakes, snakes with sunglasses and bad perms, and of course all manner

of lizards and toads and frogs which, contrary to popular belief, are different from toads.

"The Realm of the Serpent!" Duncan gasped. Could he have found it at last? Could it just be coincidence? If it was, what sane person decorated their lawn with giant snakes?

Tentatively, Duncan stepped up to the front door and brought the brass knocker, which was shaped like the head of a snake, its mouth agape and tongue hanging, against it three times.

There was silence for a few seconds, in which only the storm could be heard; then, quite suddenly, there were slow footsteps from behind the door and it opened.

The man standing in the doorway was extremely unremarkable, to say the least. He was tall and wiry, with a shock of gray hair and a pencil mustache. His complexion was pale and his teeth were white. His stockings were fouled and he had no hat upon his head.

"Good evening." He began absentmindedly. Then he noticed that Duncan was blue. For some reason though, he didn't seem all that shocked, "Ah! An orc has come to my door at last! Please come in, dear orc and I will put on a pot of tea."

Duncan stared at the man, not sure of what to say. Finally he came up with something very clever, "I'm not an orc!"

Now, the man was shocked, flabbergasted, even,

"Really? Are you an elf, then?"

"No."

"An ogre?"

"No."

"A goblin?"

"No."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a person."

The man nearly passed out, "A person? Good God, you're one of those madmen who steal my eggs! Go! Go! Leave me be!"

He seized an umbrella from a stand next to him and brandished it like a baseball bat.

Duncan was now quite doubtful of this man's sanity, "I don't steal eggs! Come to think of it, I don't much like them either."

"Oh." The man suddenly seemed to remember that Duncan was there, for he next said, "Then, please tell me. Why is your skin midnight blue and your hair chalk

white?"

"I was born with horrifying defects." Duncan replied after a short pause.

"Hm. Maybe you'd better come inside. My name is Montgomery. Montgomery Montgomery."

Duncan creased his brow. Montgomery. It was surely a very odd name for someone to have.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Mr. Montgomery asked, "Come on in!"

And so, Duncan followed the man into his house. A mistake that he would soon regret.

* * *

><p>"Look!" Violet, called to her siblings in the caravan,<p>

"I see light up ahead! There must be a house near here!"

Chubs, now back in his original form, and Sunny stuck their heads out the door, "Indeed!" Chubs exulted, "On top of that hill! Violet, head north!"

"Ioja!" nodded Sunny, which meant, "Hurry up! I'm hungry, cranky and I think I just wet myself!"

Without any argument, Violet snapped the reins and headed towards the light.

A/N: And there's the first of the three chapters we're giving out today. The story is going to be taking a few little twists and turns after this. The horror theme that we're going for will also a little tricky to work out, but I think I've got a handle on it.

Also, WHY ARE THE AUTHORS INVADING THE STORY LIKE A PAIR OF RUN-OF -THE-MILL SELF-INSERT MARTY STU'S?

The answer to that one is very easy. The presence of the authors in a world which they don't know they created, will be an important plot-line as things go on.

And now, let's switch on _Nadia's Theme_, and orchestrate a visually satisfying credits sequence.

Update Already Up!:)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2, What Exactly Is In the Coconut Cream Cake?

Disclaimer: I do not steal. I borrow. And even when I borrow, I do not pretend to own. Therefore, this isn't mine.

A/N: Not much to say that wasn't already said. This chapter was actually written as more of an extension of Chapter 1, but I didn't put them both together, because that would have made the length more _Mount Rancour_-like. Speaking of that, the two-chapter finale is in the works. I'm just working out the kinks to it.

And here we are.

Isadora was lying on the muddy ground, trembling with cold and wet.

Where the _hell_ was Duncan? Had he forgotten where she was? Was he still wandering the

forest? Had he gotten lost? Had something even worse than any of those things happened to him? Isadora didn't know; what she did know was that, if she wasn't able to stand soon, she would die.

Suddenly, she heard a clambering sound like wheels on an uneven surface. With this sound came light growls and the sort of sounds cats would make. Big cats, that is.

Then, through the trees came the source of the noise. A caravan, pulled by two lions. Wait! Wasn't that the same caravan as—?

To answer her question, the shadowy figure at the reins called to her, "Isadora? Is that you?"

"Where's Isadora?" came another, all-too-familiar voice as the caravan door opened and another figure jumped out.

Isadora was just barely able to make out the two people coming towards her when all went black.

* * *

><p>I had fallen asleep in the car. In my mind I drowned out the noise of the storm with fantasies of me,<p>

sitting in a chair at home, eating cookies and hot coffee while watching a _Three Stooges_ marathon on AMC.

Oh, what I wished to be there! But unfortunately, fantasizing doesn't solve anything. I'll have to add

the state of reality to my list of enemies.

Then, very suddenly, there was a sound of running through the rain. I bolted upright in my seat and

looked out the window at the mysterious figure emerging from the fog.

"Hello?" the figure called out to me. It had a deep, gruff voice rather like an old goose or a grizzly

bear.

I rolled down the window and stuck my head out into the storm, "Yeah?" I spoke to the figure who came into the light revealing that he was a blustering sort of fatass.

He had a bushy mustache and wore a pinstripe suit and top-hat that had seen much better days.

"Excuse me." he began, "I'm a tad lost. I've been going down this road for a distance and haven't

encountered anyone. Do you know of a lodging nearby? I have to get to Dirty Bastard. My sons await me there."

I shrugged and said to him, "Sorry, old man. I'm lost too. Our car died an hour ago and I've been waiting for my brother to come back. He was looking for a mechanic."

"Oh dear! In this storm, too?" the man looked around himself, dazed, before continuing, "My name is Poe. Arthur Poe. And who might you be?"

I paused, "I'm Plot Murderer #1. You can call me PM1 for short."

"What a peculiar name." he remarked, in a way that was almost passing, "May I come inside?"

Now, I knew all the stories about foolish young people going into a car with strange old guys. This was the reverse, a strange old guy wanted to go into the car with the young man. I made my choice: "No can do. I'm coming out." And I did so, locking the car behind me and taking my umbrella from the trunk.

"Where are you going?" Poe asked. I replied, "Well, that idiot who went off after the gas is either dead or hopelessly lost. I'm gonna see if I can find someone on the road."

"Can I come with you?"

I stared at him, "I guess so?" I proposed it as a question, as I really didn't want to spend anymore

time with him then was absolutely necessary. Then again, he was disheveled and confused.

He'd make a good slave.

"Okay. Follow me, we're heading north." And so we headed up the road and into the consuming darkness.

* * *

><p>The light grew brighter and brighter as I proceeded up the hill. When I finally made it, I found myself standing in the front yard of an ENORMOUS house. A villa, as an architect would have<p>

pointed out. The yard was dotted with sculptures of various reptiles made out of emerald-green mosaic tile.

I stepped onto the sheltered patio and brought the knocker against the door twice.

A minute passed without a reaction.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Just when I was about to reason that the people who lived here were either dead, not at home while leaving all their lights on, or in a drunken stupor, I felt a heavy blow to the back of my head and everything went dark.

* * *

><p>Duncan was led across the halls of the house and through several rooms that allowed him to have an<p>

inkling as to the personality of Mr. Montgomery.

The wallpaper was entirely pictures of snakes and other reptiles, but mostly snakes.

The legs of the tables and chairs were carved images of twisted serpents. The chandelier in the lounge was made up of bronze toads with little light bulbs in their mouths; the silverware in the china cabinet was modeled after lizards in various unusual forms; and the winding staircase was laced with sparkling green tile that gave it the appearance of a rippling, enormous

green snake.

Duncan's conclusion was this: Montgomery Montgomery had issues. Serious issues.

After this brief tour of the house, Mr. Montgomery led Duncan into the kitchen, in which there were more green tiles everywhere, and took a cake with white frosting out of the fridge.

"Now, I've just put a pot of tea on, and this cake is nice and rich." Duncan's host chuckled, "You'll need it after being out in this storm."

Duncan looked down at the cake and poked at it with his fork, "What kind of cake is this, exactly?" he inquired.

Mr. Montgomery replied, "Coconut cream cake! I made it myself."

He shifted in his seat and began berating Duncan with questions that would have bothered any man, including me.

"How did you come to be wandering in that wood?" was the first inquiry.

"I was—"

But, rapidly as anything, there came the next question, "Why are you here?"

"I—"

"Do you find me sexy?"

"What?"

"I ask again. WHY ARE YOU HERE?"

This was all done in quiet natural tones, except the part in caps lock in which Mr. Montgomery raised his voice an octave.

Duncan suddenly remembered what it was that he had come for and said, "My sister! She has tripped her ankle and is out in the storm. Could you help me?"

Mr. Montgomery smiled wryly, as if he knew something that he was delighted to keep secret, "Of course, of course. But first, you must eat! I can see in your eyes how malnourished you are. Please take a bite of cake."

Duncan eyed the slice of cake once again and realized that he hadn't eaten in two days and that cake _did_ look good.

"Oh, what the hell?" he reasoned, taking the fork and wolfing the cake down like a madman.

At about the third or fourth swallow, Duncan's head began to throb, his eyesight went fuzzy, and he felt himself sliding out of his chair and onto the floor.

Then, for the third time this chapter, everything went black.

* * *

><p>Isadora had been settled into one of the three bunks in the caravan.<p>

Chubs had examined her and deduced that she had passed out from exhaustion after twisting her ankle.

After applying some ice water on her wound, the swelling seemed to cease.

"Do you think she's alright?" Violet asked Chubs.

"Of course she is! My Isadora won't be hindered by a mere twisted ankle!"

"Xibaldo!" Sunny muttered, which meant, "She seemed pretty 'hindered' when we found her!"

Violet gave her sister a cold glare and said, "Where do you suppose Duncan is?"

"No idea." Chubs started to say, but then, Isadora's eyes fluttered open.

"Ugh!" she gave a soft groan as she collected her senses.

Chubs took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Shh." he patted Isadora's cheek, "It's me, Isadora. Chubs. Remember?"

Isadora came fully to her senses on hearing Chubs' name; she sat bolt upright in the bunk and looked around the caravan wearily, staring at each of the Baudes in turn before saying, "Chubs. You look normal."

Chubs cracked a wry smile, "But of course I do! Why would I want to live in that enormous body if I had a choice?"

"I can think of ten good reasons." Violet said drily. Chubs flashed her a look.

They explained to Isadora everything that had happened to them since she and Duncan had fled the Carnival Where Social Services Don't Exist. They talked of how the Wicked B*tch of the West had been their aunt, how Esme Squalor had fled the scene with Dewey Plot Twist and Carmelita Spats, and, most alarmingly, how Count Olaf, four of his five original lackeys and three new

ones had disappeared in an out-of-control roller coaster train.

Then Isadora told her story: how she and Duncan had decided to find the Realm of the Serpent and their parents, how they hadn't wanted to tell the Baudes as it might put them in danger and how Isadora had injured herself, and Duncan had run off to find help.

In the end, Isadora drank her antidote at long last and felt her body temperature go from scalding hot to normal and her hair return to its sandy mass of curls.

"We have to find Duncan." she began, once they were gathered around the table, "He has no idea what's going on."

"Yeah." Violet agreed, "We can't let him—"

But before she could finish her sentence, there was yet another clap of lightning, this one far louder

than any others that had occurred yet. As it happened, this bolt struck a very tall oak tree that was growing near where the caravan had been parked. The tree fell forward, crushing the caravan with its woodland might.

Wow, that sounded stupid. Woodland might? I've got to think of new ways to phrase dramatic things.

Animal lovers, do not fear! The lions' reins had snapped in their agitation and they ran off through

the trees unharmed. They went on to start a thriving lion population that exists in the forest to this day.

Moving away from that—

Sunny was the first to emerge out of the wooden wreckage of the caravan.

"Hello?" she tapped at the charred bits of rubble, "Hello?"

"Calm down, Sunny!" came a voice as Violet crawled out, "I'm fine." she assured her, "I just scraped my elbow against the tea kettle.

"Mercy!" Chubs gasped as he and Isadora appeared. "Calm down, darling. We're alright!" Isadora embraced him comfortingly, "There's nothing to worry about."

"We'd better salvage whatever we can." Violet set to work looking for things that they could use among the wreck.

They found some old traveling cloaks that had once belonged to the freaks who had used to call the

caravan their home. Unfortunately, there were only three cloaks to be found, so Sunny was carried in

Violet's arms, held under her own cloak.

"Look!" Isadora pointed to the sky, "There's light! Electric light!"

"Old news!" Sunny told her.

"We've been trying to follow that light." Violet explained, "It'll be harder to get to on foot, but

we've got to try!"

"Indeed." Chubs agreed, "We must try!"

And so, the party of four struggled towards the light on foot.

* * *

><p>Poe was a very, very useless companion. He hindered me far more than he actually helped me.<p>

The man kept slipping in puddles, tripping over his frayed shoelaces and screaming like a banshee whenever there was thunder or lightning.

Finally, the man just crumpled in a heap on the floor and started hyperventilating.

"Poe?" I stared at him, "Poe?"

He rolled onto his back and sputtered, "I think I've just popped a gasket! You'll have to find a hospital."

There are a lot of things a guy could do in a situation like this.

I did the most common one.

"Goodbye, ass!" I called to him as I continued down the road.

Looking back on things, it may have been wise for me to have allowed him to stay with me.

He might have made a good shield.

* * *

><p>I was wakened by the exclamations of several people who seemed quite startled.<p>

"Dear Lord!" gasped one of the voices, distinctly male, "This poor fellow's been coshed on the head!"

"Is he alive?" asked a soft female voice.

"No idea, darling. Let me check his pulse. Ah! Yes, he's alive."

"Do you think he lives in the house?"

"Possibly. He may have been struck by some debris blowing in the wind. Sunny, try the door, see if

anyone's home."

"Dplisok!" cried a small voice. I didn't know it then, but 'Dplisok!' means, "Might as well! I've got

nothing else to do."

I heard the sound of the knocker against the door and felt obliged to tell the people that I knew there was no one home. But I was too dazed to open my mouth.

But, shock of shocks, I heard muffled footsteps and then the creaking of the door opening.

"Ah, who's this?" said an emotionless female voice.

"Good evening, madam. We're weary travelers looking to shelter from the storm. This gentleman here has been wounded on this doorstep."

Now, I suppose, the woman noticed me, "Oh my goodness! We'd better bring him inside. I'm sure we'll be able to get you guestrooms. Please follow me."

I felt a pair of hands grab my arms and I felt myself being dragged over the threshold.

* * *

><p>Duncan opened his eyes wearily and felt his head spin. Even after his eyes adjusted to the new surroundings, everything seemed dark as pitch.<p>

He stretched his arms out so as to see the dimensions of the space he was sprawled out in. His fingertips met two walls hewn of a heavy sort of stone.

He now reached his arm above his head in order to determine the height of the ceiling. Once more, his fingertips met stone.

After realizing that he was in a space smaller then the average closet, Duncan called out wearily,

"Hello?"

"How do you do?" asked a slinky voice.

Duncan turned around as best he could and was met with two startling green eyes.

"My name is Howard, what's yours?"

"Holy crap." was all Duncan could manage to say.

"Very well, Mr. Crap. On behalf of our congregation, I'd like to welcome you to the Demon Room."

A/N: I'll cut right to the chase:

Writing Howard out is probably going to be the most fun I've ever had with a character.

Some of you may have already guessed who Howard is, if so, you might understand why I'm giddy as a walrus.

Update Already Up!:)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3, The 8,939th meeting of the Regional Society of Outcasts

Disclaimer: Not ours.

A/N: And now to end the series of chapters we're putting up today, here's the longest of the lot. It comes in at around eight pages—which is rather good.

My eyes opened to a warmly lit room in which there were sofas and armchairs in green upholstery dotted about.

"He's coming around!" said that male voice from before, "Someone get him some brandy!"

"Here you go." there was that emotionless voice once more; the woman who talked in a soulless drone, rather like Ben Stein.

Then, someone was guzzling brandy down my throat. I choked a bit, gagged, saw God, and my sight cleared completely.

I saw a small cluster of people gathered around me. Two teenage girls, a chubby boy, a baby and a tall, plain woman.

"Are you alright?" asked one of the girls.

"I-I'm fine." I managed to sputter, "Where am I?"

The woman looked at me, her blank face registering no emotion, "You're at the Montgomery family villa: Dovecotes. I'm Belle. These children here, saved your life."

"Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration, actually." the boy blushed, "Someone would've opened the door at some point and discovered him."

"Believe me," Belle said flatly, "No one would've opened that door had you not knocked. Now, please state your names and your businesses."

I faltered, "My name is Plot Murderer #2, or PM2 as my friends call me."

The eldest of the girls came forward, "I'm Violet Baude—" she stopped suddenly, as if she had just

spoken a taboo, "Um, Violet Bluementhal. This is my brother Chubs and my sister Sunny."

"Allinmoist!" chirruped the baby, and I didn't know at the time, but that meant, "Those are the worst fake names I've ever heard!" Violet promptly slapped her sister.

The other girl, who hadn't spoken at all yet as far as I'd heard, now began, "My name is Isadora—Crumplebottom."

Belle looked at each of us before beginning to give instructions, "My partner simply will not allow you to go back out in this dreadful storm. As such, I am sure you will feel obliged to take some of the upstairs guestrooms. Please follow me and I shall provide you with dinner and hot showers."

I woozily stood up and began to follow the others. No thoughts were in my head but thoughts of how nice it would be to take a shower. But thoughts of showers should've been buried deep within my brain.

* * *

><p>The storm was growing fiercer and fiercer as I moved farther and farther up the road.<p>

I could barely see a foot ahead of me in the dense sheets of rain and I was beginning to worry about

whether or not I would survive.

Suddenly, I saw a dark shadow plummet through the treetops along the side of the road. With the forms, there were screams: feminine screams.

Now, if the screams hadn't been so obviously female, I wouldn't have run into the forest. What can I say? I'm a dashing heroic figure, and stuff like that.

I found the victim nestled in the thicket not too far from the edge of the wood.

She was pale and tragic, with flaming red hair and a dainty heart shaped face. Her billowing pink gown was stained with mud and foliage. She looked like a fairy-tale princess, frozen in time.

I bent down and began to voraciously shake her, trying to wake her up.

"Hey!" I yelled in her ear, "Hey! Doll! Sweet cheeks! Mary-Kate! Are you alright?"

"Ugh—" she moaned quietly, turning over so that her face was in the mud.

"Um, little lady?" I started, "You're sticking your face in a pool of crap."

Now she sat bolt upright and I saw that her eyes, wide

with surprise and fear, were emerald green.

"Hello." she said to me, after she had regained her breath.

"Hi." I nodded.

We stared at each other for a few moments before the girl seemed to remember her purpose.

"Wait! Have you seen a man in a black cape and a woman in a white dress?" she asked me feverishly.

"Honey, I don't think you know what you're saying." I told her firmly, "From what I saw, you fell out of the sky."

"Oh, yes! Of course I did! He dropped me in the storm!"

"Who?"

"The guy whose name I can't remember!" she seemed frustrated, "Damn! Damn! Damn!" she swore, kicking a tree with the tips of her hot pink stilettos.

In a hapless attempt to try and placate her, I patted her on the back and took her arm.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked incredulously. She replied, annoyed and hysterical, "Yes! I've just been dumped in the middle of freaking nowhere and I have no idea how to get back to my only family! Can you help me?"

I thought about it for a second, "I guess so. Come on, follow me. What's your name?"

She paused for a moment as if in thought before replying, "Carmelita. Carmelita Spats."

I smiled at her and extended my hand. She took it and we made our way through the trees.

* * *

><p>Howard had led Duncan down a narrow passage with low ceilings and, well, narrow walls as I have just said.<p>

"You're going to love this." Howard was saying, "Really love it."

Then, miraculously, the corridor widened out, and Duncan found himself looking into an ENORMOUS chamber lit with blazing torches in brackets along the walls.

Crowded into this chamber were all manner of strange—well—'creatures' would be the best word.

In the light, Duncan also noticed what exactly Howard was: a thick snake, with midnight black scales and, of course, the piercing green eyes that were mentioned at the end of the last chapter.

Howard led Duncan to a raised dais at the back of the chamber, on which there was a weathered stone podium.

"Attention, all!" Howard shouted to the crowd, "Welcome to the 8,939th meeting of the Regional

Society of Outcasts."

There were great cheers in the congregation as Howard continued, "I'd like to welcome our newest member, Mr. Holy Crap!"

More cheers as Duncan face-palmed.

"I'm sure that he will enjoy this place just as much as we do. Now, in other news: the Overlord is planning an expedition to Peru to collect more freaks so he can experiment and torture them as he has with us."

Angry hissing and spitting now resounded through the crowd, "Settle down, settle down, now. I'm sure he'll never come back due to dying of a rare disease or—"

"That's what you say every week!" Everyone chorused.

"Yes, it is true that I say that every week. But I am sure that the old fool has to die at some point! In

other news. Today is Frankie Humperdink's birthday!"

Cheers once more as a little bearded man took a bow.

"And it is also Bill and Frieda's fiftieth anniversary. Half a century in prison and many more together!"

Now an elderly couple with bat wings growing out of their backs kissed to the encouragement of the crowd.

"And that's all good and well. Is there any new business?"

Silence.

"Come on! Any at all?"

Now, a completely round man bounced in the air like a rubber ball.

"Yes, Xibaldo?"

"I counted out 500,220,999 specks of dust in the air today!"

"How interesting." Howard sighed, "Well, to sum things up. We welcome Mr. Crap to our community and—"

Now, Duncan decided that it was best that he should speak, "Wait! Why are we all down here? What is that fool Montgomery planning to do with us?"

"He experiments." Howard stared, "He's a biologist who was kicked out of his board when he brought up the idea that humans could mate with animals outside their species. For twenty years now, he's been trying to prove his point, and we are all his test subjects."

Duncan paled beneath his blue skin.

"Oh my God." was all he could manage to gasp out.

"Tell me about it." Howard nodded sagely.

* * *

><p>Belle had shown the Baudes, Isadora and that strange man to a corridor lined with bedrooms.<p>

"There are so few people living here," Belle had said, "That there are numerous extra rooms in the house."

Her voice still lacked all traces of warmth. And cold, too, for that matter.

"I'll bed with Sunny." Violet looked at her sister, "She'll probably be frightened."

"Damn!" Sunny muttered to herself, which meant, "Can't I ever be alone? I'm a baby, not a rabbit, for God's sake!"

The two Baude girls took the first room on the left. Isadora turned to Chubs, a look of shy

wanting on her face. Chubs smiled, "We'll take the next room."

And it was so. The two took the first room on the right.

The man nodded a brief, "Good night. And thank you." to Belle and took the second room on the left.

Belle looked around and readied to retire to bed herself, but then Montgomery appeared in the corridor.

"More guests?" he said in a hushed fury.

Now, Belle's voice gave color. Colors of fright, "I couldn't just turn them out into the rain! I'm sorry,

Monty! I'm sorry."

He struck her upside the face, formerly known as 'the b*tch slap', and watched her fall to the floor.

"You insufferable whore!" he swore, he seized her by the arm and hauled her into the bathroom, closing the door so they wouldn't be heard.

Now, he yelled his loudest, "WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY BRINGING THOSE PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE? THEY MIGHT GET SUSPICIOUS! I ALREADY HAD TO LOCK AWAY THAT FIRST

LITTLE ASS BUT AT LEAST HE WAS BIOLOGICALLY INTERESTING! WE CAN'T DO ANYTHING WITH THESE PEOPLE! ALL WE CAN ACTUALLY DO IS CAGE THEM UP AND SEE IF THEY MATE!"

His face slowly spread into an enormous grin as he repeated, "We can cage them up and see if they mate."

He began to laugh uproariously, "That's actually a brilliant idea! We must lock them in the house and pretend to leave, or something. Then, while we're hiding in the shadows, we watch them and see what reactions they have! It's genius!"

"What does that have to do with biology?"

"It has everything to do with biology! Psychology is one of the most inferior branches of main biology! If I discover the relationships between the primal and civilized sides of the mind, I'll become famous! Those bastards at the Board of Human Science will have to bow before me. ME: THE FERTILIZER OF MINDS!"

Belle stared at him, "Fertilizer of minds?" she repeated.

"I'll think of something better later, now go and get me my emergency rum! I'll need to think this out completely."

He pushed her out into the corridor. Belle sighed to herself and, filled with dread as to what he might do to those people, she descended the stairs.

* * *

><p>I stepped through the doorway and took my first look at where I would be bedding down.<p>

The bedroom was done in a warm, inviting light, with the walls all in shades of golden-brown. The bed was a four-poster with silk sheets and plush pillows. There were picture windows looking out onto the stormy forest below. The wardrobe and nightstand were carved from elegant cherry-wood.

All in all, it was a very fine place to spend the night. I sat on the bed and removed my sneakers, thinking about my fellow 'guests'. The elder girl was pretty and the other one, rather sweet. The boy somewhat disturbed me and the baby was a tad odd.

They seemed a very strange bunch. I wondered what odd predicament landed them here with me.

Next, I thought of my brother. Where was he? Still in the car, waiting for me to return? No! He had probably been his usual self and had left the car to deal with things himself.

Wherever he was, I hoped for his safety.

* * *

><p>Violet sat in a corner of her room, Sunny in her lap. She was fretting, she knew, but she couldn't help feeling that she would never see Duncan again. Finally, she decided to open her heart out to her<p>

sister, "Sunny, we can't just stay here!"

"Why not?"

"Because Duncan is out there, wet, cold, possibly hurt or—" she couldn't bear to say the 'D' word.

"Pshaw!" Sunny said, quite definitely, 'Pshaw' means, "No, no, no! Dido, or whatever the hell that guy's name is, is perfectly capable of taking care of himself!"

"You don't even know his name!" Violet buried her head in her mass of pillows, "I swear to God, sometimes I think I'm the only one with moral values in this family!"

A bolt of lighting struck, very close to the house. It seemed to agree with her.

* * *

><p>I've gotta say, I also agree with her. In the room shared by Chubs and Isadora, Chubs was putting on a rather disgusting show for his lovely lover to celebrate their finally being reunited.<p>

"You just know you've got to have me and you can't resist!" Chubs sang a song he had composed himself while artfully removing his clothes, "So just take me if you want me!"

Isadora turned around in bed, "Darling, just go to sleep! We've been through a lot in the past few hours and I think I speak for both of us when I say:_ I'm tired as hell._"

Chubs paused mid-dance, "Ah. Alrighty then. We can use your favorite position."

"No, please, sweetie. I'm just too tired."

"Very well." Chubs sighed, dejected, "I'll just turn out the light."

And he did just that. Little did they know, but by morning, there would be terror incarnate in the house with them.

* * *

><p>Monty dashed down the hall and into the living room where the phone was mounted.<p>

He snatched the receiver from its base and quickly dialed the number that he had had memorized for years but had rarely used.

"_We're sorry,_" an automated voice on the other line said to him, "_But the number you dialed is invalid. Please check the area code and try again._"

Monty flushed with embarrassment. He had forgotten to dial '1' before the area code. He quickly corrected his error and waited.

"Hello? Who is this?" asked a heavily accented voice on the other end.

"Alfonso!" Monty began, trying to put on a carefree tone, "It's me, Montgomery!"

"Montgomery who?"

"The man from the Christmas party."

"Oh, yes! Of course, you're that Montgomery! You're the one with those incriminating pictures of the—"

"Hush!" Monty silenced him, looking around the room, "Now Alfonso, I have just staged the psychological experiment of the century!"

"You have, have you?"

"Yes, I have. Please gather your associates and hop on to my place in the morning!"

"Monty, we haven't spoken in twenty years. Do you honestly expect me to drive into that wilderness you live in and watch some foolhardy experiment? If this is anything like the whole 'humans find owls sexy' thing, then I'll see to it that you don't practice again!"

"Al, I've already lost my place on the bench, must I also lose my dignity?"

"Yes. Now, goodnight!"

With a sharp '_click!_', Alfonso hung up.

"Damn!" Monty muttered to himself, "Well, I suppose I can get noticed some other way. All that is certain is that the show must go on!" With a maniacal gleam in his eye, he hurried to his study to begin planning.

* * *

><p>The next morning proved to be gray, cloudy, and damp. The storm had passed and in its place a sharp wind was blowing.<p>

Violet suddenly opened her eyes. She was cocooned in the bedsheets and she noticed Sunny sitting in the corner, scraping her teeth over the expensive wooden furniture.

"Mornin'", she grumbled, which meant, "About time you woke up! Someone's locked the door!"

"What?" Violet was suddenly awake, she jumped out of bed and began tugging at the door.

"Crap!" she swore, "What's going on here? Hello!" she began pounding on the door, shouting as loudly as she could, "Hello? Somebody, let us out!"

She crumpled to the floor, shaking terribly, Sunny crawled over to her and said, "Wisixaz!" which meant, "Calm yourself down. Someone's gonna come for us eventually."

* * *

><p>"Isadora! Isadora!" Chubs ran around the room in a panic. Said Isadora sat up in bed and looked around wearily, "What is it Chubs? Have you lost your stockings again?"<p>

"No! Worse than that, far worse than that! The door has been barred!"

"What?"

"WE'RE FREAKING LOCKED IN!"

"Chubs, you're probably not trying hard enough."

Isadora got out of bed and turned the doorknob. It wouldn't budge.

"Okay." Isadora's voice was still firm, "There's nothing to worry about. All we have to do is: HELP!

HELP! HELP! MY GOD, WE'RE LOCKED IN! HELP! HELP!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Chubs joined her in the process, "Hello?" he called, "Violet? Sunny? Mr. PM2? Madam Belle? ANYONE?"

Try as he might, no one would answer.

* * *

><p>I stirred sleepily in bed to the sounds of distant shouting.<p>

What the hell was going on?

I pulled aside the sheets and hurriedly attired myself in my clothes from yesterday, which had dried

overnight.

I went to my door and pulled it open easily.

It appeared the others were having some trouble with doors.

"Is something wrong?" I called through the door next to mine.

"Yes!" replied the voice of the Violet girl, "We're locked in!"

"As are we!" came the voice of the Chubs boy across hall.

"Alright, I'm going to look for a key!" I told them.

I proceeded to dash down the stairs.

If there was one thing I knew, it was that there was always a key-rack in the foyer.

And indeed there was.

I took the entirety of fifteen keys and hurried back to the hallway.

"Okay, okay!" I began to the people behind the doors as I started trying the keys out in the respective locks, "I've got keys!"

"Please hurry!" wailed the voice of Isadora.

In the end, my dashing heroic skills manifested themselves and I was able to open both of the doors.

"Oh, thank you." gasped Violet, "You've saved our lives."

"Well, I don't think you were in any actual danger." I told her, placating, "You always could have climbed out the window."

"Ah." sighed Sunny, clearly meaning, "What a bunch of stupid asses we are!"

"Well, thank you, all the same." Chubs stepped forward, shaking my hand, "Mr. PM2, you are a wonder!"

I sheepishly bowed my head and wondered aloud, "But why were you guys locked in your rooms? And why was my door unlocked? And where the hell is that Belle woman and that man she mentioned? What was his name?"

"Well, wherever they are," Isadora began fiercely, "They're obviously the ones behind this!"

We all agreed with the sentiment and we adjourned to the living room to find them. Instead, we found a note tacked to the coffee table.

"It appears our mysterious host has left us a message." Chubs pointed out.

Now, I was new to Chubs' habit of pointing out the obvious but everyone else seemed all too familiar with it.

I picked up the note and began to read:

"_Dearest Guests,_

_Feel free to make yourselves at home. I'm afraid I was unable to make your acquaintance last evening. My assistant, Belle, and myself, have left to deal with important business._

_A cab will come to take you to the nearest town at eight o'clock tonight._

_With all due sincerity, Dr. Montgomery Montgomery_"

"Who does this ass think he is?" Violet burst out, exasperated, "He can't expect us to stay in his creepy house after he locked us in our rooms! We have to find Duncan!"

"And I have to find my brother!" I put in, putting on my 'brave face'.

"Fletcher!" Sunny announced, which meant, 'So let's get out of this crap shack!'

As a one, we hurried back to the foyer and pounded on the front door. It wouldn't budge. We were locked in yet again.

"This man must be on something!" Isadora moaned. "No doubt, the man is mad!" Chubs agreed with her.

"What do we do?" I lost my composure completely. I don't put up well when I'm locked up.

"We calm down and climb out the window." Violet said, perfectly composed.

We went to the nearest window, back in the dining room, only to find that it was barred on the outside.

"Those bars weren't there before." Isadora trailed off.

"Oh crap!" I gasped.

I led our little party to the kitchen, living room, lounge, the upstairs bedrooms. In short, we looked in every room that wasn't locked tight and found every single window barred.

"There are no other doors leading out of the house!" Chubs whimpered.

"Trapped!" Sunny scowled.

"Why would this 'Montgomery' guy want to keep us in his house?"

"I can only begin to imagine." I managed.

* * *

><p>Several hours had passed, it was now late in the afternoon. The clouds had still not cleared and the<p>

wind was still billowing through the trees.

The three Baudes, one Quag and one Plot Murderer sat in a circle in the living room, waiting for a sign.

"If the note is meant to be taken seriously," Chubs had said, "the taxi will come on eight o'clock.

Perhaps we will be allowed out then."

"That's wishful thinking." Violet scoffed.

PM2 had prepared coffee and set out a tray of biscuits he had found in a tin. It eased the nerves somewhat but did nothing to erase the harsh light of the situation.

Suddenly, the doorbell sounded.

"What—?" began Violet, confused.

"How—?" wondered Isadora.

Chubs was immediately practical, "Clearly, this man Montgomery is returning. He might not have meant any harm, after all."

"Uoizo!" Sunny rolled her eyes, which meant, "Ever the optimist!"

Chubs ignored her, marched over to the foyer, yet again, and watched as the door opened.

"Ah," Chubs nodded approvingly, "It must be Montgomery, because only he would have the key."

His pompous boasting was cut off, though, as the figure in the doorway stepped through.

He was a tall, bespectacled man in a tweed suit and loafers. His head was bald and his mustache was bushy.

As a matter of fact, he had no hair anywhere besides his mustache. There were a few other indistinct forms in the yard behind him, but, as I said, they could not be clearly seen.

"Ah." the man spoke in heavily accented English, "I am Alfonso. I am a Portuguese man. I am at the call of Dr. Montgomery Montgomery to assist him in an experiment. These are my associates."

He moved aside to allow the four people behind him to enter as well.

These people were: A skinny man in a bowler hat and greatcoat, a pretty pale woman in a smart pinstripe skirt and jacket, a chubby pale woman in a khaki suit, and an enormous person in a fluffy cloak.

Alfonso continued, "We would like to be shown to our rooms at once. Are you servants?"

PM2 looked from the newcomers to his friends and noted the terrified looks on their faces. He decided to speak, "I'm sorry, but we aren't servants. We were just leaving actually."

Alfonso smirked, "I don't think you're going anywhere."

He closed the door behind him. They heard the 'click!' of the lock being set again, proving that the door _was _only locked from the inside. Also proving how Alfonso and his friends had been able to get inside. And also, also proving that Alfonso and Company were trapped with everyone else.

Everyone stared into the eyes of this strange man. Sunny was the first to look down, and when she did, she tugged on Violet's sleeve.

They followed her gaze and were met with a sight the Baudes and Quags knew

well, and one PM2 would soon know as well.

On Alfonso's left ankle, quite disturbingly, there was an obscene tattoo.

A/N: That was an extraordinarily long chapter! Well, I think we all know who Alfonso is, as well as his associates.

We also still have some secrets that need to be solved on the mysterious Belle. And of course,

we need to know where Esme and Dewey have gone, now that Carmelita is with PM1.

Find out the answers to most of these questions next chapter!

Update Coming Next Friday!:)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4, Is This A Knife I See Before Me? And A Gun?

And A Rope?

Disclaimer: I stand clear. It's not ours.

A/N: Sorry for being so late in the day, folks, but at least its up! We have a—_hurricane named Irene _to fear. For those of our readers not on the American East Coast, Irene is a storm—weak, by hurricane standards, but its still pretty damn scary.

But we will carry on with stiff upper lips, and such and such. We'd like to thank Gypsy Rosalie for reviewing all three of the first chapters we put up last week. Your feedback is always appreciated.

And here we have chapter four, picking up on last chapter's cliffhanger ending.

Enjoy, and proceed:

Alfonso stood in the foyer, his associates standing behind him.

The Baudes stood before him, Isadora stood slightly to the right of him. I was standing directly

in front of him, ready to ask why everyone was staring so fiercely at each other.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Alfonso asked after a short while, "Please help with our bags!"

"Sir, I don't think you realize the gravity of what you've just done!" I managed to say, "The door is

apparently only locked from the inside. By closing it behind you, you have trapped us once more! What's more," I continued, "all the windows are barred. We're completely trapped here, thanks to you!"

"Well, that's the idea, isn't it?" Alfonso flashed a wicked grin.

I refused to handle his baggage and instead obeyed his demand of making him coffee in the kitchen.

We all gathered in the living room once more. Alfonso kicked off his shoes, which proceeded to hit Chubs square in the face, and stretched out on the sofa.

"Where is Dr. Montgomery?" asked the tall assistant,

"We have no idea, Hooky." Isadora stared at him. The man quickly eyed his very solid hands and said, "My name tis' not 'Hookey'! My name tis' be Obaldo!"

The slender woman said, "I am Celeste."

The chubby woman said, "I am Chartrouse."

The enormous creature said, "I am Deaf to the World."

"No, you most certainly are not any of those ridiculous names!" Chubs was exasperated, "You are Count Olaf and his remaining band of four."

"Actually, there should be four more of you." Violet pointed out, "Those three freaks and Kit Snicket."

"We haven't the faintest idea who you're talking about." Alfonso stomped his foot on the floor.

"Neither do I, actually." I sighed.

"Count Olaf is a lunatic who's been chasing us for our fortune for approximately seven months now." Violet told me.

"This sounds vaguely familiar to me." I mumbled, not understanding.

"Dear God!" Obaldo gasped.

"What is it?" asked Celeste.

"He's a MARTY STU!"

"What?" I stared.

"You are a composite of a real-person who has inserted an expy of himself into our text!"

"I'm still not getting this."

"You are the whim of a cocky writer and his brother who have placed parodies of themselves into their own story!"

Everyone stared. Finally, Alfonso said, "Lay off the drinks, chap."

"I HAVEN'T BEEN TOUCHING ANY DRINKS!"

"Celeste, slap him."

Celeste and Obaldo left the room. Sunny sighed, "Ass. Cheater. Fop." which means just what you think it means.

Alfonso ignored this, instead saying, "My patience is wearing thin. Where is the doctor?"

"Doctor who?" Chubs mused.

"Who?" Isadora took of the chorus.

"Seventh?" Violet joined.

"Second?" I put in because I watch too much BBC.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Alfonso snarled.

"You've never watched_ Doctor Who_?" Chartrouse gasped.

"I'm more of a _True Blood_ man, myself."

There was awkward silence.

It was awkward.

Indeed.

* * *

><p>I helped Carmelita scramble over twigs and rocks in the forest. We had camped in a little cave, out of the world. The storm had passed.<p>

"Um, Mr. #1?" she whimpered at around noon.

"Yeah?"

"I'm exhausted."

"Look, I'm trying to get you to your people. If the pace isn't good for you, find someone else who's generous."

"GENEROUS!" boomed a voice, "HA! I LAUGH, GOOD SIR!"

We both turned around, startled. Poe stood in the thicket. His clothes were by now a tattered remnant of the suit he had once worn. His mustache sagged and his nose was red as a strawberry.

"Poe!" I gasped, not expecting anything of this kind.

"Yes, 'Poe'! You fool! I have wasted away with a hole in my intestines and now I find that you help this TRAITOR!"

"Do I know you?" Carmelita asked, affronted.

"You do not know me, but I know you!"

"Are you a stalker or something?"

"No! I, like you, am a once major character who has been demoted to an extra because of other characters gaining importance. My charges once went to school with you. You were also at that carnival, a few nights ago."

"I don't want to talk about that."

I looked at the both of them, "Is there something I should know about going on here?"

Before either of them could answer, the forest was rent by a gunshot. A shot that landed very close to us.

Carmelita screamed and dropped to her knees. Poe took off his hat and bowed his head in it. I stared as a tall, lean woman emerged from the trees. She was clad in an official drab outfit and had raven hair tucked into a bun on the top of her head. In her hands she held a Colonial musket, which she had used to shoot at us.

"What are you doing in the Snicket's forest?" she demanded of us, in a cold voice.

"We're hiking." I invented.

She looked from Mr. Poe's rags to Carmelita's dress, "Odd clothes to wear on a hiking party. Especially when there isn't a trail within ten miles from here in every direction."

"Oh, the trail!" Carmelita gasped, "We got lost, you see. We've been trying to get back to the trail."

The woman walked over to Poe and kicked him.

"You! Fatass! Out of the hat!"

Poe shakilly emerged from his top-hat, allowing the woman to fully see his face.

Poe squealed, "OH MY GOD! YOU'RE CATHERINE O'HARA! I ABSOLUTELY LOVED YOU IN _TEMPLE GRANDEN! _YOU WERE SUCH AN INSPIRATION!"

"Shut up! _Never _call me 'Catherine O'Hara'! I do not look like her."

"Frankly," Carmelita put in, "I hate what Catherine O'Hara's done to her hair. It makes her look like an old lady."

"Enough!" she put up a hand, "You may call me Lieutenant Strauss. You are to follow me."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because, you are trespassing on Snicket territory."

"The forest is a national park!" Poe objected, "Anyone is welcome!"

"Not anymore." was all she said. Without even honoring us with an explanation, she trained her musket on us and had us march away.

* * *

><p>The awkward silence prevailed for a few more minutes until there were sounds of hysterical cries echoing from the corridor.<p>

The group in the parlor stood up.

"What's going on?" Isadora questioned, gasping as Obaldo and Celeste reentered, carrying the sobbing and screeching form of the plain woman that had admitted them into the house the previous night.

"We found her in the kitchen pantry." Obaldo announced, quite grandly, dumping Belle on the coffee table, where her many bruises and blemishes were revealed.

"What did you do to her?" Isadora was shocked.

"We didn't do nothing." Obaldo shrugged, "We found her like that we did. I swear, we didn't do nothing."

"A double negative!" Chubs lept to his feet.

"What?" Obaldo stared.

"Oh. Nothing."

Violet was tending to Belle, "What's wrong? Who did this to you?"

"That doesn't matter!" she gasped out, "He wants you all dead! He's using you!"

"Who? This Montgomery guy?" PM2 mused.

"Yes! This is an experiment! He's been doing this sort of thing for years. He locks large groups of people in the house and sees what happens. He's always watching. He _never _leaves! There are cameras hidden in all the rooms!"

"We've got to get out of here!" exclaimed Deaf to the World, running to the foyer.

"No!" Belle cried, "Don't leave! There's always at least one person who tries to break down the door, When they try to leave, he takes them."

"Takes them where?" wavered Chubs.

"H-his lair, I guess you could call it. He's your typical Biology teacher gone mad!"

PM2 chuckled, "My Freshman Biology teacher was mad! He'd stalk the aisles and say in his deep, intimidating voice, 'Take out your goddamn notes, boy!' And if you didn't have them, you were in for three days of detention!"

"That's irrelevant." Alfonso said, deadpan.

"Marty Stu!" Obaldo coughed out, receiving an icy glare from PM2.

"Can you help us get out?" Isadora asked Belle, who replied, "No. It's impossible. But I can help you in another way."

"What sort of way?"

"I'll give you the tools you need for the experiment." she withdrew several boxes from her superior bag of holding, "Open them."

They did so. In Violet's, there was a heavy brass candlestick. In Isadora's, a knife. In Chubs', he found a lead pipe. Sunny came out with a rope, tied into a noose. Alfonso had a revolver. PM2 found a small wood-axe while Celeste discovered a hypodermic syringe. A mace, as in, the Medieval instrument of torture, was in Obaldo's box. And in the boxes of Chartrouse and Deaf to the World, there was a rock and a teaspoon, respectively.

"They're weapons." Belle sighed, "You're supposed to kill each other."

"Excuse me!" Deaf to the World raised its hand, "How is a spoon a weapon?"

"You can gouge someone's eyes out with one."

"Clever." it reasoned, sitting back down.

"This is all an experiment to discover how well different types of people deal with a crisis situation. The winner gets a prize."

"How do we win?" Chartrouse asked, getting excited.

"The last won standing wins the price of leaving the house."

"Has anyone ever won, before?" PM2 asked.

"Not that I know of. He has ways of making things horrific. This whole house is geared as a death trap. The best you can do is to not turn against each other. Don't use the weapons on each other. Go after him."

"But where is he?" Alfonso gritted his teeth, impatiently.

But before Belle could answer him, the lights went out, metal sheets came down over the windows and doors. The entire house was left in darkness.

The frenzied screams of the prisoners echoed.

"Get off of me!"

"I'm not meant to be touched there!"

"GAGAGAGAGAGA WHOOPSIEDO!"

"I don't like the dark!"

"Look at all those silk sheets! All embroidered GS!"

"Stop quoting failed adaptations!"

"I feel ill!"

The voices diminished, slowly but surely. Until, at last, there was light. PM2 had lit a candelabra and found that he was not alone in the room. With him was Chartrouse.

"Where are the others?" she breathed.

"Taken." he assumed, "Well, if they're already dead, I can't imagine how Montgomery can have any fun."

"They must be hidden somewhere!" Chartrouse clutched her heart.

"Let's stay calm." PM2 advised. He moved the candle around the room, shining light on everything. There, it was revealed. On the floor, the bloody, quite mangled body of Belle, the pool of blood was seeping out of a gash in her head, which had been cracked open by a brass reading-lamp engraved with images of snakes.

"Good Lord!" Chartrouse wailed, "The massacre begins!"

PM2 countered, "Careful! I've read enough detective novels to know that one must never jump to conclusions!"

"Marty-Stu!" Chartrouse coughed out, much as Obaldo had.

"I AM NOT A MARTY-STU!" PM2 insisted, "Anyway, none of us was given a lamp as a weapon. The killer could have just taken it off one of the side-tables in this room."

"It could very well have been you!" Chartrouse realized, taking several steps back.

"As it could have been you." PM2 reasoned, "But paranoia isn't going to get us anywhere. Let's try and find the others before Montgomery can have too much fun with his little games."

"I don't like this." Chartrouse felt the need to remind her companion, "I really don't."

"Thank you, for your trust." he countered.

They left the room.

A/N: I just found myself asking—why do all of these stories feature strings of murders? Is it because I love mysteries; or because _Mount _Rancour is taking revenge on me? Well, I guess Book 4 didn't have any murders, unless you count Dr. Cornbluth, which I don't.

Oh, and Justice Strauss is now involved. As with the other characters, she is barely recognizable from what she was in the original stories.

Now, if you excuse me, I have a hurricane to prepare for.

Update Coming Next Friday!:)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5, Hello. I am a Puzzle Piece

Disclaimer: Good heavens—we own nothing, and we also have a lot of apologies to make.

A/N: Okay, okay! Let us begin by having me weep tears of joy at getting my computer fixed! The reason we have not updated since late summertime was because my old device was nearly destroyed by some sort of software problem. I deeply apologize to all our followers, and hope you guys gravitate toward us once more! That was an odd phrase. But, aside from that, we are releasing chapters five through seven of this story to make up for what went wrong. We'd also like to wish everyone a Happy New Year, and trust the holidays were pleasant. Now—we begin, at last, after many months, with _The Demon Room_.

Isadora opened her eyes to a filthy sight. A bathroom. A public bathroom. A public bathroom that appeared to have originated on any subway that was not Russian, for Russians have the cleanest subway system in the world.

She shook her head groggily, half to wake up, and half to get the smell of sewage out of her nose.

On trying to move, she found her leg was chained to an exposed pipe, very tightly chained.

The only light in the room seemed to be coming from a single light bulb that gave off a pale blue, flickering light.

"Hello?" she called, hoping that there was someone else hidden in the shadows, a friend, hopefully.

"Isadora, is that you?" a voice did indeed call back to her.

"Chubs?" Isadora said excitedly, "Chubs, are you okay?"

There was a little noise and then Chubs crawled forward, his clothes in tatters and his spectacles grimy. He too was chained to a pipe.

The two embraced for a while, absorbing the warmth they each radiated.

"We've got to figure a way out of here!" Isadora gasped out frantically.

"Quite, but these chains are tightly fastened." he paused before saying, "Wait!"

"What?"

"My sock suspender!"

"You mean those belt thingies that you use to keep your socks from falling down?"

"Yes!"

"What's the purpose of those things, anyway?"

"It gives me an extra sense of security!"

He pulled up his grimy trouser-cuff and unwound the suspender from his left sock.

"Watch closely." he lifted a finger, proceeding to beat his chain untold times with the suspender.

Isadora watched for a little bit, and just when she was about to tell him that nothing could possibly come from his actions, a voice echoed off of the tiles in the bathroom.

"Greetings, guests." it began, "I am a puzzle piece."

"Huh?" the two chorused.

"My actual name is copyrighted. I just saw the movie and thought that this would be a cool idea."  
>"Are you Montgomery, by any chance?" Chubs asked.<p>

"Shut up! Now, to free yourselves, you must find the key to the chains."

"That's kinda obvious, isn't it?" Isadora quipped.

"Quiet! The key has been surgically transplanted in one of your stomachs while you were in a drug-induced sleep."

"WHAT?" Isadora was horrified, "You _probed_ us?"

"Shut up." the voice said again, "You have thirty minutes to find and remove the key from its selected stomach before it is completely destroyed by digestive acids. Hurry on."

The voice was silenced.

Isadora and Chubs looked at each other.

"Have you a penknife?" Chubs asked finally.

Isadora slapped him.

* * *

><p>"Fernald," Flo, formally known as Celeste, called out to her lover, formally known as Obaldo, "Where are we?"<p>

They had woken up in a dark space, with not much room to move around in.

Fernald called back, "Do you suppose the kids are here?"

"If they are than we'd better catch them!"

"Let us grope!"

And they groped, bumping into each other all the while.

"Do you hear something?" Flo asked, on hearing a low, yet steadily growing, noise coming from all around them.

"It's like music!" Fernald realized.

The music swelled and swelled until finally the entire area was flooded with light and people.

"What the hell is this?" Flo shrieked, looking to the top of a grand staircase, on which Olaf stood, clad in wig and fish-nets, as well as several layers of make-up.

"HIT IT!" he roared in a high-pitch.

"What's going on?" Fernald stumbled, back into Flo as Olaf wrapped a silk cape around himself, descending the stairs as he sang:

"Young hearts! Run free! No love's like my love! My love with my man and me!"

"Why is he singing from the hits of the 70's compilation?" Flo wondered, exasperated.

They turned in a hurry, only to find the entire area flooded with dancing couples in outlandish clothes.

Kit Snicket strolled by them, doing a tango with her deceased brother, Jacques.

"Be free!" she exulted lashing a snake-tongue across pointed teeth.

"Fernald, let's get out of here!" Flo was hysterical, becoming even more so on finding that Fernald was nowhere to be seen.

She ran through the crowd, calling over the music and the singing.

"Singing is elating!" said, none other than Enya, waltzing by with Tocuna.

Suddenly, Enya was onstage, singing an aria by Schubert.

The music increased in volume and the tempo sped to a frenzy as Flo tripped and staggered through the thick of bodies until she bumped into a little old lady in a hula-skirt.

"You are quite high!" she said definitely.

And Flo woke up from her ecstasy trip.

* * *

><p>Lieutenant Strauss led us to a little cabin-like building in a glen to the edge of the forest.<p>

"Wait here." she said, gesturing to a little table and folding chairs in a brightly lit room to the back of the building. She left us there, with an audible _click_ of the door locking behind her.

"This some sort of park-ranger station?" I wondered.

"What do you think she's gonna do to us?" Carmelita said her voice quivering.

"Well, if we did indeed trespass on Snicketian soil," Poe said matter-of-factly, "she could fine us or perhaps have us put away for eternity."

"That's a little harsh for a mistake." I said.

"It's Snicket Land; nothing is fair. Nothing's been fair since Lemony took over." he paused, "You aren't from around here, are you?"

I sighed, "My brother and I are from the space between spaces. We came here for some vague reason that was never explained to us."

Poe and Carmelita looked at each-other in shock.

"That makes you a—" Carmelita moaned.

"A MARTY-STU!" Poe finished for her, drawing his chair against the wall in shock.

"What's a Marty-Stu?" was all I could say before the door was thrown open and Lieutenant Strauss charged back in, holding a series of lead bars connected by chains.

The three of us gasped as Strauss put on a cold smirk and pulled the device taut.

She proceeded to fold it into a coat hanger, on which we all let out sighs of relief.

These sighs were cut short, however, as Strauss began to beat Poe brutally with the hanger.

Carmelita proved her extreme usefulness as she covered her eyes and backed up against the wall, shrieking in unadulterated terror.

"No! Please, don't kill me! Don't kill me!" Poe sobbed as pained tears flowed freely down his face.

"Oh, shut up you big pansy!" Strauss ceased, "I was merely tenderizing you for the attack dogs."

"A-attack dogs?"

"Yes, I radioed Commissioner Sausagepot and he told me that the best way to deal with trespassers to Snicket territory is to feed them to angry dogs. Follow me."

And so, we walked to our deaths.

* * *

><p>"Gillespie!" Sunny called into the darkness, "Endiymon! Essere!" which all meant, "Hello? Someone answer me for God's sake!"<p>

She scrambled over what seemed to be a very rough, rocky surface and found herself falling head-long into a pool of water, tinted bright green by the darkness.

"Gurgle, gurgle!" Sunny imitated the way my Global teacher likes to imitate someone drowning.

"Fetch me my longsword, ho!" came a voice, accompanied by the blast of a horn.

A little motor-boat came across the water to her, sailing on which was Alfonso, or, as she should rightly call him: Count Pain-in-the-Ass. Olaf works too, I suppose

"Zackatana!" Sunny rolled her eyes, she meant to say: "Fancy meeting you here, cheater."

Olaf looked a little closer, "Oh, it's you. Well, it seems we're destined to work together to get out of here. I'd advise you to hop aboard."

"No!" Sunny was definite, "Why?"

"Because old Molars is roaming in these waters."

Sunny looked straight ahead at no one in particular and said, "Really?"

"Yeah, really." I said from my desk in the fourth dimension, "If I can insert Marty-Stu's, I can parody horror movies."

"Damn." Sunny sighed, resigned to clamber onto Olaf's boat as quickly as possible.

"Where get boat?" she asked.

"It was provided on the little rock I woke up on."

"Typical."

There was a sudden rush of water.

"There he is!" Olaf cried, pointing at the lagoon, where Molars, the Great White reared its vicious head.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" the two screamed in chorus.

"Stand aside, you, and let the real man take the helm!" Olaf cackled, raising a harpoon gun.

"What, ho!" he cried, launching one projectile in the complete opposite direction from the beast.

"Give me gun!" Sunny insisted.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No, dammit!"

"Yes, dammit!"

Sunny seized the weapon from her ex's hands and fired the three remaining shots into the shark, causing it to bleed through various puncture wounds.

"It's still alive!" Olaf was amazed and petrified.

Molars charged towards the boat, teeth bared, it struck the side, capsizing them into the water.

"Sweet mercy!" screamed Olaf as he submerged.

"Shoot." Sunny face-palmed as she was swept by the current, towards the great monster.

* * *

><p>"Gloria! I think he's got your number! I think he's got your area that you've been living under! All the voices in your head; they're calling GLORIA! Gloria!" the unholy singing continued, as Flo tossed and turned, trying to break the haze of Montgomery's ecstatic fumes.<p>

When she revived for good, she found that Fernald wasn't with her, as in her high.

The place she was in was cramped and damp, smelling of sewage.

"He slipped me ecstasy and shoved me in a sewer pipe?" Flo was disgusted, "When I get my hands on him he's going to hell."

Resigning herself to finding out where the exit was, Flo set to scrambling down the pipe.

* * *

><p>"Chubs I just thought of something brilliant!" Isadora clasped her lover's arms.<p>

"What is it?"

"We don't need to carve our stomachs open!"

"We don't?

"No, we don't! Just look here."

She reached as far as her chain would allow her, pulling at a cluster of loose pipes that looked brittle enough to break off.

"Chubs help me, please!" Isadora insisted.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Grab a pipe from the wall."

With a bit of grunting and groaning, they each managed to break off a pipe.

"Beat the chains!"

"But if the suspender didn't work, why should these?"

"Chubs, sometimes I do wonder about you."

After an unspecified amount of time, the chains snapped apart.

"Darling, you are a wonder." Chubs gaped.

"It was kinda easy, Chubs. I just took what you tried and applied it in a way that made sense. But how do we get out? There's no door and definitely no windows."

"Well, there must be an entrance through which Montgomery dumped us in here." Chubs scratched his chin, "We've gotta find it."

They looked around themselves before Chubs let out an: "Oh, here we are!"

"What is it?"

"A hatch." Chubs knelt on the grimy tiles, looking at a heavy sewer grate.

"It ought to lead to some piping. Looks wide enough to get us through."

With a bit of effort, they managed to haul the hatch open, revealing the pipe disappearing into the floor.

"Let's away!" cheered Chubs, sliding merrily away, followed by Isadora.

* * *

><p>"What room is this?" Chartreuse asked me as we stumbled down the corridor of the villa.<p>

"I think it's a dining room. Don't touch anything." I turned to look at my unwilling companion to see that she was licking a portrait of a bowl of fruit that was mounted on the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" I sighed.

"I'm tasting it! I haven't eaten in two hours!"

"Than let's have a poke in the kitchen." I suggested, "It should be right through this connecting door."

I pulled the latch on the door and walked right into a large piece of furniture.

After swearing loudly and causing Chartreuse to clutch at her heart, I deduced that I had bumped into a desk and that we were in Montgomery's study.

"Why would he have a study right next to the dining room?" Chartreuse wondered.

"I dunno. Midnight snack?" I said, trying to be snide.

"Marty-Stu!" Chartreuse murmured, yet again.

"Will you stop with that? It isn't even funny anymore."

"Hmph!" Chartreuse hmphed, leaning against a book-case.

"Shut up, please." I implored her, reaching for a candle in a wall-bracket.

As I pulled the candle out of it's space, the book-case swiveled around to face behind the wall, taking Tocuna with it.

I stared as I heard a cry, followed by a miffed, "Put the candle back!"

"Why should I?" I was enjoying this.

"Because it's dark and scary here!"

"It's dark and scary here, too."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Alright, I'll put it back." I said, suiting the action to the task.

Once the candle was back in the wall, the bookcase spun again, releasing Tocuna, who crashed into me, sending me rolling behind the case.

"Put the candle back!" I insisted.

"No. Why should I?" Chartreuse giggled.

"Because I said so!"

"I think I'll go now." I heard her chuckle,

"Get your bottom over her, you skank!" I begged, "I'll give you anything!" On a note of improvisation, I shouted, "I think there's donuts down here!"

That got Chartreuse's attention. I heard her hurry over, and put the candle back in it's bracket. The book-case revolved and she looked at me, "Where are the donuts?"

"There aren't any."

"BASTARD!" she roared.

"But look! There's some sort of elevator back here!" I pulled her down the hidden corridor to where a pair of tarnished brass grates marked a little compartment.

"Where do you suppose that goes?"

"Think about it!" I told her, "The thing was hidden in Montgomery's study. It clearly only goes down. Obviously it leads to his secret lair, or whatever Belle called it!"

"But what if he killed Belle?" Chartreuse's voice wavered, "Certainly he'll kill us if we pry in his personal space!"

"He wants us dead, anyway!" I rolled my eyes, "Besides, we have weapons." I held my little ax, "What did you get?"

"A rock." she withdrew said stone and waved it around halfheartedly

"Good. If he did kill Belle, we owe it to her to avenge her death! He was clearly abusing her. Just look at those bruises she was sporting when she was brought into the parlor!"

Chartreuse sighed, "I suppose that you're right. How do you get inside the thing, anyway?" she examined the elevator closely.

"I guess you just open it." I said, drily, pulling open the doors.

We stepped inside, shuddering a bit when we heard the apparatus creak.

I shut the doors behind us and looked to the lever in the corner.

"One speed only, I guess." I pointed out.

"Could you stop speaking like that? It makes your Marty-Stu status even more glaringly obvious."

I ignored her and pulled the lever back, letting the elevator plummet into the chute.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" Chartreuse screamed the phrase like a mantra while I held onto the lever to keep my balance.

"Hush, will you! He'll hear us!" I shouted, admittedly, a little too loudly.

At last, the elevator came to a clanging, abrupt halt just short of hitting the bottom of the chute.

I opened the doors and led Chartreuse into a stone corridor lit by dim light fixtures suspended from the ceiling.

"So the power still works down here." I deduced.

"Stop stating what's going on and move!" she yelped.

We moved down a little way until we came to a spot where a heavy steel door was inset in a side wall.

"Do you suppose the lair's back here?"

"If it is, making that noise will have him onto us in a moment." I felt along the door and pressed my ear against it, hearing a crackling and faint buzzing noise.

"Sounds like a generator." I told her.

"A generator?" Chartreuse breathed, as if this was the most terrifying thing she'd ever heard of.

"Yeah." I looked at the latch on the door, "It looks like it's been forced. Someone's broken in."

I pushed the door open with ease and the two of us gasped at the horrid sight before us.

The room was a great control room. Security monitors lined the back wall, below which was a dash-board riddled with buttons, knobs, and a dead body, smoking and sparking, seemingly thrown into the device.

"Is that—?" Chartreuse trailed off.

"Who else could it be?" I gasped out, "It must be Montgomery!"

A/N: And so comes the main plot of the story! I'm sorry there were no Duncan or Howard in this chapter, but I promise there'll be plenty of them next chapter! And as I said, in order to make amends for our inability to post, chapters six and seven will also be posted tonight. Oh! We're having another contest. Try and guess how many movie references there were in this chapter! The winner gets-well, the winner gets praise! Guess in your review!

Update Already Up!:)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6, Memoirs from the Prison Diary of Duncan Quagmire

Disclaimer: We own nothing. I do hope though, that one day I _will_ own something.

A/N: And here's chapter six! Regardless of saying anything, you can get right down to reading!

Duncan tried to find warmth in the raggedy sheets provided in his little compartment, or 'dorm'. Howard had bid him goodnight, though Duncan's wristwatch said the time was eight in the morning. He had been up all night.

The hours passed. Duncan tossed and turned until, at ten o'clock, he decided to do something to pass the time.

He took some old napkins from his trouser pocket and withdrew a little pencil stub from his shoe.

"I sit here, writing. I do not know how to get out or quite what has happened to the abominations I see around me. All I know is that they are all victims of inter species mating experiments conducted by the madman who imprisoned me: Montgomery Montgomery. My sister is surely dead. I have failed her, leaving her in the rain. Now she will never remember mother's voice. Never look upon father's visage. I have left her in the wood. In the rain. In the cold. I am sorry, Isadora."

Deeply moved by his passionate words, Duncan began to weep ice-cold tears that froze to ice upon his blue expression.

"I left my sister to die while cursed with mutations. I too, shall surely die while in this accursed form. I cannot come to terms with the fact. The house of Montgomery is adorned with snakes. There are hundreds of people in this dungeon. Could Montgomery have locked my parents here? Could they be among these poor, poor souls? I must investigate this. I must prove Isadora to not have died in vain. I will find my parents and ask them why they left my sister and I to fend for ourselves in a hellish boarding school. I will—"

"JUST A SPOONFUL OF SUGAR HELPS THE MEDICINE GO DOWN! THE MEDICINE GO DOWN! THE MEDICINE GO DOWN!"

Duncan screamed in horror and turned around to see a wispy old woman rolling around on the floor, singing in a loud, screechy voice.

"IN A MOST DELIGHTFUL WAY!" the woman finished her song.

Duncan stared at her for a few moments before she snatched his memoir and ate it, running away at breakneck speed.

"You hag!" he yelled after her, "Get back here!"

He chased her out in the main chamber and pushed through the crowd.

"Here, now! Here, now!" called Howard, slithering over, "Mr. Crap, what is wrong?"

"That old bat ate my prison memoirs!" Duncan was in a rage.

"That's Babbity." Howard chuckled. "The Overlord stuffed her full of opiates and she lost her mind. Poor thing's in the psych ward with the other loonies."

"There are more lunatics about?"

"Several. We keep them down the hall. They are rarely visited. I have no idea how Babbity got out. The Overlord usual keeps the door locked."

Howard slunk away.

"Where are you going?" asked Duncan.

"I'm going to the psych ward." he replied, "If the door is damaged, all the crazy folk are liable to harm themselves and others with their preposterous antics."

"May I go, too?" Duncan asked.

"You may, if you like. I daresay you'll be quite bored, though."

"Oh, that's no matter. My legs could do with a stretch anyway."

Howard laughed, "Of course, of course! I wouldn't know, I lie around on my stomach all day! HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!" he looked at Duncan as though expecting him to laugh as well.

Duncan obliged by giving a weak giggle.

Howard nodded, "Well, let's go!"

They went on through the passages, chambers and halls of the Demon Room until they came to a place where a heavy door lay open, revealing cots and bedpans of several babbling lunatics.

"Looks like most of them have already gotten out," Howard observed.

"The door!" Duncan went over to it, "It's steaming. Quite warm too. Is it mechanical?"

"Yes. The Overlord operates it from his control room. If it's warm than a fuse must have burst." he paused, thinking, before shrieking the dickens.

"What is it?" Duncan was taken aback, "What's wrong?"

"The floodgates! The floodgates that the Overlord uses to kept drainage water out of here! If a fuse broke, all the doors in the Demon Room will have opened! We could be flooding right now!"

He slithered out of the room as fast as his belly could carry him, leaving Duncan standing, dumbfounded.

* * *

><p>We were led into a lot in back of the station. Poe was trembling; his layers of fat jiggling like a tub of lime green jello. There were a few other cops standing around. They snapped to a salute when Strauss stepped over to them.<p>

"Release the hounds, you lot." she commanded them, "We have a heap of grimy criminals on our

hands."

"Grimy?" Carmelita said "I'm not grimy!"

Strauss looked at Carmelita's dress-turned-rag, "Anyway, release the hounds!"

An officer crossed to open a set of kennels. I took the time to notice that the outer walls of the compound were guarded by just one man. No barbed wire, no magic troll. Just a guard.

"Listen." I whispered to the others, "There's just one bozo standing guard."

"'Bozo?" Poe wavered.

"Shut up." I sighed.

Before we could make any other plans, the man at the kennel flipped the latch aside, and a score of mad Dobermans were unleashed.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Carmelita screeched, rather than deciding to move aside, as a dog grabbed hold of her skirt.

I yanked her from the beast, smiling when I realized that the greater portion of Carmelita's skirt had been torn off, revealing her shapely legs.

"Run!" Poe roared as a dog sank its teeth into his leg.

We ran, Poe dragging the dog behind him. The pathetic thing really was that the guard at the wall, armed with a gun and nightstick thingy ran screaming as the dogs chased us towards him.

Using our superior human thumbs, we vaulted over the wall, Poe needing to be helped.

"Come on, into the forest!" he commanded, leading us in the dash.

"Where else are we supposed to go?" I rolled my eyes.

"MARTY-STU!" was his only reply as we moved through the trees.

"Idiots!" Strauss chided her men, "After them!"

Gathering a team of her finest deputies, Strauss led them into the woods, led in turn, by the dogs who were hot on the trail of the escaping felons.

"Those fools are committing treason!" Strauss informed her favorite deputy, Carl Sandbag.

"What will we have to do with them?" he asked in reply.

"We have the dogs take one limb from each of them, followed by a life-sentence in the Snicket-State Penitentiary."

"There they go!" another of the deputies called out, "Down Flotsam Ridge!"

* * *

><p>Chubs and Isadora continued their slow but sure progress along the pipe.<p>

"Chubs?" Isadora broke the long silence.

"Yes?"

"What if there is no way out of here?"

"Nonsense! What goes in, must come out."

"That is _so_ what she said." she snickered.

"Dear, we've been together many months now. When will you learn that I don't approve of that joke?"

"Chubs, I couldn't resist! You set the whole thing up for me. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Forget it, dear. Forget it."

They remained in silence for a little more, until Isadora asked, "Do you see any light? Or hear any running water?"

"No. But—" Chubs was about to finish when a figure emerged from around a bend in the pipe, startling the dickens out of the three of them.

"OH LORD!" Chubs moaned, nearly wetting his trousers.

"Oh, it's just you kids." gasped the figure.

"Calm down, Chubs." Isadora rolled her eyes, "It's just one of the idiots who work for Olaf."

"My name is Flo, thank you very much." she rolled her eyes.

"Well, where are you coming from?" Chubs hastened to ask.

"I don't know. I woke up in this pipe and I've been trying to come out."

"Well, there's nothing back there except a filthy bathroom."

"Then how do we get out?"

"Did you try going the other way?" Chubs suggested.

"Actually, I didn't."

"Then let us go that way!"

And they turned on their—well, not their heels. Their knees perhaps?

Yes, they turned on their knees and retreated down the pipe in the opposite direction.

* * *

><p>Strauss and her men had made it to the foot of Flotsam Ridge, only to see that there was an open manhole amongst the sticks and leaves.<p>

"They've fled into the sewer!"

"Why is there a sewer in the forest?" asked Deputy Sandbag.

"None of your, concern, Carl. It's a waste filtration system."

She looked to all the men she had with her and consented, "Carl, you're coming with me. The rest of you, head back to the station and contact the base in Dirty Bastard."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

The men went one way, while Strauss and Sandbag slid into the sewers. An aisle ran through the murky water, diverging into several tunnels.

"Which way?" asked Sandbag.

"Should we split up?"

"Well, I—" Sandbag began. He was cut off, though, by a blow coming to him from out of the darkness, knocking him aside.

"Carl?" Strauss cried, "Carl?"

And she too was struck, hurtling into the water.

She struggled to regain herself all the while hearing Sandbag's anguished cries.

Strauss withdrew her official LSPD flashlight and, noting that Sandbag had disappeared, followed the cries of her deputy. She moved through the tunnels, calling for him.

As she rounded a bend in the passage, she noticed a silhouette that was unmistakable Sandbag's disappearing down a sloping filter pipe.

She ran to the edge, where the sewage rushed down into a frothy pool of crap.

"Sandbag!" she called down. There was no answer. Strauss knew that her deputy must have been taken. Perhaps by one of the escaping fugitives.

She blamed it on the fat one.

Moving the beam of her flashlight around the pipe, Strauss saw that it had been in disrepair for an apparently very long time.

It was rusty, and had waste sticking to the upper rim.

The structure of the thing was unsteady, though Strauss mustered up her courage and began to scale the side of the pipe.

She inched around the tube, like a skilled climber. Shining her light around, hoping to find someone in the darkness.

In this groping, Strauss lost her hold on the rim and fell, swooshing, into a small crawlspace, intended to let air into the sewer tunnels. You know, in the event that a group of people ended up trapped inside.

"Well, this a fine kettle of fish." she muttered, tossing off her helmet and crawling forward.

She shook her flashlight a few times to light it and proceeded. The space was damp and cramped. The air was limited, but Strauss knew that she had seen Sandbag dragged down the pipe, meaning that he must have been in the crawlspace.

She came to a spot where the vent diverged into two paths. Above her was a chute reaching up for full ventilation. It was from the above chute that something wet and thick dripped onto Strauss' forehead.

The dripping commenced and Strauss realized that it was blood drizzling on her.

She shined the beam of her flashlight at the chute and screamed.

Deputy Carl Sandbag: recipient of the Snicketian Cross and loyal officer, was pinned to the side of the vertical vent by a butcher's cleaver.

Strauss had never screamed more in her life. This scream was soon joined by another, as someone crawled in from the opposite passage.

Strauss turned, thinking it was her deputy's killer. It was one of the fugitives. The girl.

The little brat screamed, staring at the corpse and continuing until well after Strauss had recovered from the shock.

"You! You murderer!" Strauss reached forward with difficulty and seized her by the arm, "You killed my deputy!"

"I didn't kill him!"

"Was it one of your associates?"

"I don't know!" she was instantly quite frightened, "Leave me alone!"

Strauss attempted to drag the girl off but she resisted and made for the third of of the three passages, the one that neither of them had crossed through,

Strauss gave chase, determined as anything to avenge the death of her fellow.

* * *

><p>Violet blinked. Where was she?<p>

"Dear God in heaven!" wailed a voice nearby. Violet sprang to her feet and backed up against what she believed was a wall, "Who is that?"

"None of your damn business!"

It was then that Violet's nostrils were met with the revolting stench of brandy and feet, "Your one of Olaf's cronies. The fat one."

"Enya, actually." the voice sighed, "There's no further point in going by that ridiculous pseudonym any longer."

"We're locked in." Violet decided that she was better off trying to settle their dilemma, rather than griping and complaining.

"D'you think we're still in the house?"

"Undoubtedly." Violet replied, feeling what may-or-might-not have been a desk, "It's so dark, though. Urgh!" she had hit her head on the desk-whatever-it-was.

Rubbing her brow, Violet decided to at least find out more about their current situation, "What was Olaf's grandiose plan, this time? He hasn't disguised himself in ages—he should have figured that we wouldn't be so easily fooled this time."

Enya sighed, "Well, he wasn't at all expecting you'd see through his disguise. 'Alfonso' is actually a real person. One of Montgomery's old colleagues from the Board of Human Science. When Olaf got wind that you children had come here—"

"But how did he know?" Violet asked, her head throbbing even more in all of the confusion, "We were only in this house for one night!"

"He had those freaks from that carnival follow you." in the shadows, Violet could barely see Enya shrugging its broad shoulders, "The elastic-woman and the octo-dextrous man were all too pleased to do whatever he said. The hunchback had qualms, though. I don't think he was all that pleased at leaving the Wicked B*tch behind with old Baldy."

"If the freaks were following us," Violet crossed her arms, "Than where are they, now?"

"After sending word to Olaf that you were here, they remained at our headquarters."

"Headquarters?" Violet tried hard to suppress a laugh, "What's that: the Legion of Villainy?"

"Funny little wench, aren't you?" Enya remarked snidely, "It's a little cave a few miles out into the forest. After Olaf knew that you were here, he dispatched some of his other subordinates to head down to Dirty Bastard and pop a cork in the real Alfonso's rump."

"Other subordinates?" Violet suddenly felt rather insecure, "He has more followers?"

"A few others. Olaf's not the leader—he's like Capricorn in the Inkworld Trilogy: the servant of a greater power." noting Violet's blank stare, Enya quipped, "You've never read the Trilogy? Wonderful stuff, really. I don't normally like novels, but those were humdingers—"

"Get to the point!" Violet was exasperated, "You were at Alfonso being killed."

"Yes. You see, Olaf's tangled with Montgomery before now. Mind you, that was many years ago. But he knew that Alfonso was just about the only one left of Montgomery's associates whom he still kept in touch with, and knew that in order to to get into the house, he had to impersonate him. And that he did. He gussied the rest of us up as lab assistants and we trooped through the wood to find the villa." Enya chuckled darkly, "We weren't expecting being lured into a rat-trap, I can tell you that much."

Violet nodded, "I have one more question."

"Fire away. Hurry up, though; I feel that we should actually be trying to escape, rather than just whiling away the hours with exposition."

"Where's Kit Snicket? Is she at the cave, too?"

"She went home."

"Home?" Violet didn't understand, "But she was exiled from the Snicket Palace—she's not allowed within the borders of Snicket Land."

"My dear girl, where do you think Kit was exiled too?" Enya guffawed, "Old Lemony provided her with a chateau in the Dandruff Mountains. Atop Mount Fickle-Nickle, in fact. She never used to live there in the old days. She had been nomadic at that time, traveling the country in hiding. Though, at Olaf's urging, she returned to the old place and took up residence there. Olaf plans to use it as his new base once we've slit all of your throats but one. We do need one of you to get your family fortune."

Violet shuddered. This was all far too much information to process all at once! But still, she said, "We'll need a truce for now, Enya, if we want to get out of this house alive." she extended her hand, "Once we're out of here, you can slit my throat fast as a winking."

Enya thought about it, "Good lark, girl. Good lark."

They shook on it.

* * *

><p>"Don't eat! Don't eat!" Sunny beat about Molars' head with a piece of driftwood from Olaf's boat. The shimmering green water was fighting hard to consume her, though Sunny resisted, as much as her little body could. She could not see Olaf anywhere throughout the gloom, but she had more important things to worry about at the moment than think about her old flame.<p>

Molars lunged and snapped at her, once tearing a section of Sunny's pinafore off.

"Perv!" Sunny countered, feeling that she was always more confident when insulting her enemies. At last, Molars retreated, trailing blood behind him. Sunny wondered how Montgomery had managed to train a shark to attack on command without being eaten himself. It must have taken a very special type of man—a resilient man, someone with a fierce determination about him. No doubt, that was just who Montgomery was.

Sunny wasn't much of a swimmer, but she managed to clamber onto a slippery gravel incline. She was marooned on this little rock, not able to progress further, or go back.

She needed to wait. But for what? The only other person she knew to be down here, was Olaf, who might not even be alive anymore.

Sunny leaned back against a rock. No matter how strong she was, she was still an infant. And infants needed rest.

She slept.

* * *

><p>"We should check for a pulse." Chartreuse turned to me, her face as puffed up as a toad's, just before a meal.<p>

"No need." I said drily, "The man's been fried nearly to a crisp. Someone must have pushed him into those monitors."

"Marty—" Chartreuse began to say, but I cut her off, "You might want to nip that joke in the bud before it gets old."

"OOOO!" Chartreuse pointed at me accusingly, "You're breaking the fourth wall!"

"Shut up!" I snapped, "We have a murder case to deal with!"

"Why should we care? He's the one who started all of this trouble!"

"But whoever killed him might go after us next." I pointed out, "We don't know how dangerous this person can be. We ought to hide somewhere and wait!"

"Where?"

"Here?" I suggested, "The killer isn't likely to go back to the scene of the crime of his own accord."

"There's some sense in that." Chartreuse relented, "But we ought to arm ourselves. You still have that ax?"

"Yep." I fingered the blade at my waist, "You have your rock?"

"I do." Chartreuse tossed the thing back forth from hand-to-hand, "He's outnumbered, of course. Right?"

"I believe he is." I pushed Montgomery's corpse to the floor, "Let's settle down."

And we did that. We leaned against the wall, staring out into the dimly lit corridor outside. Waiting. Waiting for something to happen. For someone to come.

And then we would strike.

* * *

><p>"Poe?" I called, "Carmelita?"<p>

No answer. I continued through the grimy, dank sewer tunnels. Being alone in this terrible place made me feel more vulnerable. No longer was I ready for the slightest eventuality—I was afraid. My primal instinct was what had taken over. Every sound of a rat scuttling over the stones made me jump. Every drip-drip of water caused me to crouch for cover. But these were ordinary enough sights and sounds for a sewer.

What wasn't ordinary, was the piercing scream that met my ears. I had not heard such a human sound in these tunnels since I had separated from the others.

It was a feminine scream, and soon enough another woman joined in. Two voices, screeching the dickens.

As far as I knew, there was only one woman down here: Carmelita. Than again, Strauss may have followed us down.

My heroic instinct kicked in again, and I sprinted around a corner, following the screams. I needed to see what was going on. What the problem was.

* * *

><p>Duncan found keeping up with Howard to be a problem. For one thing, Howard moved quickly. Very quickly. For another: there was a great deal of detrimental junk clogging up the tunnels of the Demon Room. Howard just slithered over these obstructions, while Duncan had to clamber over them. They met several other inmates on the way, though they did not stop to talk to them.<p>

At last, Duncan found himself looking down at the floodgates from a type of ledge. These gates had indeed opened with the shutting down of the power; the heavy metal barriers had been lowered, and now torrents of brackish sewer water were rushing into the basin, steadily rising up, coming to the point where the very outcropping that they were standing on was almost underwater.

"Dear God." Howard looked pale, if a pitch black reptile can look pale, as his green eyes darted around the scene, "We must evacuate the Demon Room."

"How?" pondered Duncan, "I thought you were trapped here by Montgomery."

"Well the Overlord can't help us. We'll have to save ourselves. Mr. Crap, I'd like you to help me."

"Whatever you wish, I'll do it." Duncan was getting excited. The allure of adventure was appetizing to him—a race against time was just the thing after this imprisonment.

Besides, saving other people would certainly serve as a repentance for leaving Isadora to die, wouldn't it?

Howard continued, "You must rally everyone together. Gather them all into the main room, and bear to them the message that we must head for the old paths."

"What paths?"

"The original Demon Room that the Overlord first built. It has since fallen into disarray, but it should be on land high enough to avoid the water. From there—" Howard trailed off, possibly he hadn't thought the full plan through, "Well, from there, we'll manage. We always have. Hurry, Mr. Crap! Hurry! We haven't much time!"

Duncan, understanding the importance of this mission, hastened off at once, ready to save thousands. Well, maybe not thousands. Hundreds, perhaps. But not thousands.

A/N: And there you have it! Exposition, black comedy, what I hope is sufficient suspense, and the usual cliffhanger. Though, it's not much of a cliffhanger, as Chapter seven should already be online!

Update Already Up!:)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7, Isn't She Lovely? You Know She is, Don't Deny It!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything—exempting things that are mine which don't include the base material of this story but do include the story itself.

A/N: And this is the last chapter of the night! After this, you lovely loyal readers should be sure that we will continue posting every Friday as tradition dictates—barring any unfortunate incidents, of course. And here we have—Chapter 7!

Strauss had scrambled out of the little vent and was hauling the girl along by her fiery red hair, "Damn you!" she yelled, tossing the little brat against the opposite wall, "You killed Sandbag, don't deny it! And if it wasn't you, it was one of those two men who were with you!"

The girl was sobbing hysterically, her tears making glimmering tracks along her face. She was a pathetic sight, really. Like a puppy who has been wrung out in a rain shower and has not had a chance to wash yet.

"Damn you!" Strauss said again, her voice shaking with rage, "Damn you, three times over!"

Her flashlight had died some time ago, but Strauss could still make out the girl quite clearly, due to the obnoxious pink of her raggedy dress.

"I did nothing!" she wailed, "I've never even seen the man in my life! All I'm trying to do is get out of here!"

"You're lying!" and there, Strauss defied every written law in the Snicketian Law Enforcement Code. She lunged forward, and struck the girl across the face.

The little creature whimpered and sniffled, before doing something that Strauss had not at all expected.

The girl fought back.

She pulled off her scuffed, pink high-heels and jammed the pointed tips into Strauss' own boots. Giving a cry of pain, Strauss crumpled against the wall, while the girl gathered her skirts and hurried off, slipping her shoes back onto her feet as she went.

Strauss gritted her teeth. That had hurt, and now her prey had escaped. That was a moment of weakness that she could not afford to show again. She was going to avenge Sandbag's death. And she was going to skin that brightly-colored wretch while she was at it.

* * *

><p>"Look!" Chubs' excited voice brought Isadora out of her reverie, "Look, girls! Look! There's an opening up ahead! Oh, thank heavens!"<p>

"Hey, you're right!" Flo laughed, "Good show, fatty."

Chubs flushed red in the face, "Call me Chubs!"

"Whatever."

One-by-one, the three of them emerged from the pipe, in a cavernous area lit by flickering torches. "What is this place?" wondered Isadora, sniffing the moldy air with distaste.

"Well, we'd best find out." Chubs grunted, "Lit torches means that people can't be far. Let's move."

Isadora gripped his arm, steadying him, "What if Montgomery is here? What will we do, then?"

"You must remember, my dear girl, that we are in the majority." Chubs smiled, "My brains, your wits, and Flo's—well, whatever talent Flo possesses. We shall best him, Isadora, I assure you!"

They moved along the dank passage. The occasional rat darted across their path, but they were few and far between. As if this place was a place too terrible even for vermin.

"Hear that?" Flo was suddenly alert, her head spinning around her, "Voices!"

"Many voices." Chubs agreed, "Stay close, now."

Isadora grabbed onto his hand. So much for being the majority.

They followed these voices to an ENORMOUS room with a high, vaulted ceiling and a floor paved with crumbling flagstones. There were people everywhere; at least six-hundred. They were of all shapes and sizes, and they were all rather unique. Some had wings, some scales. One man had the appearance of a giant, green canary.

"What are these things?" Flo sounded revolted, but Chubs' tone was one of mere curiosity, "They're all congregating around that platform in the back.

Indeed, they were. This platform was something like a stage. There was a boy standing on it, and from the great distance Isadora and the others were standing, they could not make out who he was exactly. All they saw, was that he was blue.

"Blue." the word slipped through Isadora's lips and fell like a stone, "Duncan!"

"By Jove!" Chubs jumped half a foot into the air, "So it is!"

The both of them ran into the crowd, pushing past the many people, and leaving Flo standing where she was, frustrated and worried.

"Duncan!" Isadora called his name out again and again, laughing loudly, "Duncan!"

She swung her way onto the dais and stood before him. Yes, it was him. Duncan stood; he had apparently been about to speak to the congregation, but he had stopped short mid-sentence, staring at her.

"Why is fate being so cruel to me!" he wailed at last, making a rather comical show of falling onto his knees, "Why am I being plagued with these images? These visions of she whom I betrayed?"

"Duncan, why are you talking like that?" Isadora cocked an eyebrow, "Don't you recognize me?"

Duncan gaped, "You—you're real?"

"Yes, of course I am! Oh, what are you doing in this place?"

"Dear sister!" Duncan whooped for joy, seizing Isadora in an embrace and holding her close to him, "And Chubs is here, too!"

"Duncan!" Chubs spread his arms wide, "It's been so long!"

They began that trusty Best Friend's Toast that simply must appear at least once in every book:

"Genius of the Restoration!" started Chubs, flapping his arms.

"Aid our own resuscitation!" Duncan finished wiggling his ears.

"Why are you down here, Duncan?" Isadora asked, trying her best to ignore the stares the people in the crowd below them were directing their way, and the tears that were forming in her eyes, "What's happened?"

And Duncan related to them his story. How he had run into Montgomery's villa and had been drugged by him. How he had met Howard and had been brought to the Demon Room. About the water that was quickly rising towards them, and how he must get everyone into the old paths. Chubs and Isadora than told their own story, about their meeting Plot Murderer #2, and Montgomery's wicked game.

"We must move quickly!" Duncan said when they had all finished, "Howard will catch up with us in time." he now made a loud announcement to the others present, "Follow me, everyone! Stay close. We're going to the old paths!"

As they set out, Isadora couldn't help asking her brother, "Do you know where these paths are?"

"I've got something of a general idea, yes." Duncan said sheepishly, "Howard gave me directions. We just head east." he pointed ahead of them, "This way!"

Said Chubs, "I do hope you're sure of this."

"Of course I am!" Duncan harrumphed, "And either way, it's so good to see all of you! And Violet! When we get out of here, we simply must save Violet. Sunny too, and even that Plot Murderer person. Olaf and his lot can rot, though, for all I care!"

"But what about Flo?" Isadora looked over her shoulder at the masses of those who were following them into the darker and darker sections of the Demon Room, "She's down here, too."

"If she has any sense, she'll know to keep up." said Duncan, "And if not, it's her loss if she's stuck here when the flood waters come." Chubs nodded, and the two began another of their long-winded discussions on humanity and human nature in general, though Isadora couldn't help feeling a twinge of sadness for Flo.

Not all of Olaf's cronies were as evil as their employer. Right?

* * *

><p>"Enya, look here!" said Violet, "I found some kind of hatch!"<p>

"Let me see, let me see!" the big brute bustled over and got down on its hands and knees, "Aye. That's a hatch."

"Help me open it!"

"Aye."

"Stop saying that!"

"It's foreshadowing for a later book!"

"Well, it's pretty poor foreshadowing if you ask me! If this series went the real way, you'd be dead by the time the 'Aye!' guy strolls in."

"Real comforting. Now let's get working before the fourth wall completely collapses and buries us all with it."

They pulled away at the hatch and, mostly due to Enya's strength, they pulled it open. Violet leaned her head down into the cylindrical chute, inhaling the damp smell of sewage, "Looks like it's onward and downward."

"Yes, indeed." Enya nodded, "You go first."

"Actually, I'd feel more comfortable if you went first." Violet smiled, not-too-sincerely, "I would hate to think what would happen if you were left behind all alone in this terrible place."

"Shut up, and go down the chute."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

Enya let loose with one of its signature war-cries, and pushed Violet into the chute, following close behind her.

"DAMN YOU!" Violet's scream reverberated through the narrow passage as they both slid

down, Violet going headfirst.

They landed squarely on a convenient mattress that seemed to have been placed at the bottom of the chute for just that purpose.

After coughing and sputtering for quite some time, Violet felt the pairs of eyes that were fixed on her.

"Tocuna?" Enya was wide-eyed.

"PM2?" Violet couldn't believe the relief that was coursing through her. They had found other human beings!

"How did you—?" PM2 was stammering, "Where did you—?"

His mindless rant was cut off, though, by Enya's great screech, "GOOD GOLLY, ALMIGHTY! THERE'S A DEAD BODY IN THIS ROOM!"

And indeed there was.

* * *

><p>"Help me!" Poe groaned, staggered through the sewer, "Please! Somebody! I need to go to a hospital!" finding that no one was responding to his cries, Poe turned to a last resort, "I NEED A DOCTA! I NEED A DOCTA!" he repeated the nonsensical phrase over and over again as he slipped and slid along.<p>

But no one came to his aid. No voice answered him—until he came to the basin.

Poe stood at the rim of a large sewer pipe, looking down at a veritable lake of fluorescent green water.

"This doesn't look like part of a sewer." Poe observed, noting the carved out walls and ceiling, which seemed to have been carved of solid rock.

"HELLO, DOWN THERE?" Poe called down.

"FATASS?" another voice responded to him. Poe knew that voice all too well, and he suddenly felt happiness blossom in him like a balloon, "SUNNY? SUNNY BAUDELAIRE?"

"SAVE ME!"

"WELL WHATEVER ARE YOU DOING IN SUCH AN AWFUL PLACE AS THAT?" Poe felt inclined to ask.

"SAVE!"

"Alright, alright!" Poe relented, "I'll need a length of sturdy cord—"

But before he could hunt for said cord, a figure appeared behind him and pushed him into the basin. Poe screamed in shock and horror as his hat parted from his head, and the water engulfed him. Thankfully, Poe was able to resurface, with the help of a swimming technique that Duncan had thought him: The FLIPPERDOO! That caps lock is incredibly important in executing the technique, don't forget that!

After coming to the surface, Poe saw Sunny standing on a nearby landing. She was pointing up and scowling at whatever it was that she she saw. And Poe looked up, and he saw none other than the notorious Count Olaf. He was wearing decidedly odd clothes—quite different from the Shakespeare costume that he had been wearing when Poe had last seen him. These clothes, though, were sopping wet, and had quite a few tears in them.

Olaf waved at the two of them, "Hello! Why dear old, Mr. Poe, whatever are you doing in such a nasty place?"

Trying to be brave, Poe countered, "Why don't you come down here, and I'll show you?"

"I don't think I will. You know, Poe, I thought when I abandoned you at that carnival, you'd have been eaten by wild beasts before leaving the Hinterlands! You seem to have guts. More than I would have thought likely. And as for you, Sunny." he directed his malevolent gaze on the baby, "Molars is dead, so I've done you lot that favor. Of course, Sunny, if you hadn't wounded him so ingeniously, I might have found it hard to bludgeon him to death with a rock. But, shark or no shark, I doubt you'll ever find your way out of this miserable pit."

"But how did you get out?" Poe was bewildered.

Olaf laughed, high and cold, "Well, there is an exit. Though it took me quite a bit of time to find it, and I am sure it will be the same with you. And by the time you two get out—if at all—I'll be well away from here! Now, Sunny I'm off to find your older siblings and capture them with my ingenuity!" he gave another mad laugh and ran off, out of their sight.

Poe blinked, "What in Grimm's name has been going on here?"

Sunny rolled her eyes, "Long story."

"Ah." Poe sighed, "I suppose you couldn't tell me."

Sunny shrugged and Poe continued to bob up and down on the water's surface.

* * *

><p>"As for that antidote," Chubs was saying, as their rather large party continued to traverse the Demon Room, "Violet's got it. Well, at least I hope she still has it. If it's been lost, well—" Chubs averted his eyes from Duncan's blue-ness.<p>

"Is this the place?" asked Isadora, looking around at the stretch of tunnel that they had stumbled into. Indeed, they were on higher ground, with old pillars and stairways that indicated that this had been the original Demon Room.

"I suppose." Duncan turned to face the others, "We'll camp here! When the waters rise, we shall be safe."

There was a great cheer, though Chubs believed that is sounded very halfhearted.

"Let's settle down somewhere." Duncan suggested, going over to what looked like a miniature Greek amphitheater, and just as ruinous, "The new room doesn't have one of these things." he remarked, sitting on one of the crumbling stone benches.

Chubs put his arm around Isadora's shoulder, "Tired, love?"

"Yeah." she laughed, merely a little hiss in the air, "And hungry. We haven't eaten since the tea and biscuits in the lounge."

"And it doesn't look like there'll be much food for us at the moment." Chubs paused, "But we'll make do. We've been in tight places before."  
>"You make it sound so easy!" she admonished him playfully.<p>

"Maybe so. But—"

"ISN'T SHE LOVELY? ISN'T SHE WONDERFUL?"

Isadora was interrupted, though, by a fierce-looking woman who looked old beyond her years. Her shoulder-length hair was brown, but it was streaked with silvery-white. Her face was wrinkled and her green eyes were sunken-in and looked tired, despite the while show that she was putting on.

"Oh, that's just Babbity." Duncan chuckled, "She's one of the loonies that Montgomery kept." But Isadora didn't seem to be listening to her brother. Instead, she stared into those emerald eyes and said, "I know that song."

"Do you?" said Chubs, with little interest.

"Don't you remember it too, Duncan?" she turned to him, "It's a Stevie Wonder song!" she sang a few lines, "'Isn't she lovely? Isn't she perfect?' I remember it from—years back."

"Yes, yes!" Duncan said absentmindedly, "Mother and Father used to sing it, in the nursery."

Babbity went on singing, "I NEVER THOUGHT, THROUGH LOVE WE'D BE MAKING ONE AS LOVELY AS SHE—"

Isadora suddenly grew very pale, "Duncan." she yelped.

"Yes, dear sister?"

"She has our eyes." the words came out of her mouth in a whisper, "She looks just like me."

"No, she's far too craggy darling!" Chubs laughed, "Be thankful you don't have her pasty complexion—"

"I'm serious, Chubs!" Isadora's voice broke, "This is my mother."

And Babbity continued to sing in her off-key, scratchy voice. Seemingly unaware of having found her two children at last.

* * *

><p>I kept running long after the screams ceased. It was curiosity that drove me to move so quickly. Curiosity and—something else.<p>

Maybe it was the fact that the screams were so obviously Carmelita's. Maybe it was just that instinct I had.

No. I knew what this determination was. I was falling in love, though I didn't want to admit it. I was in love with Carmelita Spats. But that was such a ridiculous notion! Carmelita was shallow, materialistic, and whiny no matter what anyone else said!

Why then, was my mind always scrolling back to the forest, where we had met? And the station-house, where we had saved each other's lives? I'd barely known the girl for twenty-four hours, and yet—and yet, I knew that I loved her.

It was a peculiar feeling, to be so dead set on things. My brother was more of the hopeless romantic type. Personally, I had never seen the attraction in a relationship.

But now, oddity of oddities, I did.

Where was she? Where—

I was knocked to the floor just then, by a great pink blur that had come dashing around the corner, "Carmelita?"

"PM1—" she gasped, "There's a body—"

But I wouldn't let her finish. I took her in my arms and held her close to me, letting her hair fall into my face.

Carmelita sighed, and seemed for a moment to have drifted off to sleep, before she went on, "A body—one of Strauss' deputies was stabbed to death! She suspected me. Oh my God, she was so angry!" she jumped up, her head spinning around like a cog in a Swiss clock, "We have to go!" she panted, "We have to leave as fast as possible! She'll kill us all, come on!" she grabbed my arm and pulled, but I spoke firmly, "Carmelita! We are gonna move out, but I need you to stay calm. Can you do that?"

Carmelita paused, and than nodded, "Y-yes. But we do have to go—"

"I know. But we're going to take things slowly. Let's go."

And so we made off, going at a slow, walking pace. We had to get out of that sewer, though the place was no longer as frightening as it had been before. Maybe it was because I wasn't alone. Maybe it was because of the way we were walking.

Maybe it was just the fact that I got to hold Carmelita's hand as we went. I can imagine myself getting calm over that.

A/N: And there are more plot twists! I know you didn't see the whole 'Babbity' thing coming! Also, I felt I had to pair Plot Murderer #1 and Carmelita up, considering how I teased with them in Book 4. But there are still unanswered questions:

Who killed Monty, Belle and Sandbag?

Where is Fernald?

Why is Mrs. Quagmire insane and imprisoned in the Demon Room?

What will become of the flood-waters, which are slowly rising up toward Duncan and the others?

How—if at all—will the cast escape these wretched catacombs?

These are all important questions. Some will be answered next chapter. For others, you'll just have to wait and see! Again, we wish you all a Happy and Healthy 2012, and hope that we'll be able to continue bringing you _A Series of Queer Events _for a long time to come!

Update Coming Next Friday!:)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8, In Which Loads of People Come up With Outlandish Plans That May, or May Not Work

Disclaimer: _Nos ipsi nihilo_. Wrap your minds around that, folks.

A/N: How are you guys? I know, I'm crap for not updating the week after I promised I would update more frequently. There was a party, in which I was introduced to about sixty cousins I had never before met. Well, either way, here we are. I shall not delay you any further—here we are:

"We need an idea!" Poe tapped his foot against the gravelly ground. He had climbed onto the landing to join Sunny, and was now wringing the water out of his hat, which he had retrieved from the lagoon.

"Stumped." Sunny shrugged, meaning: "Poe, must we go over this again? I shall repeat: I am two years old! I'm lucky I even survived the shark attack!"

"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right." Poe sighed, "But this is just infuriating! We need to get out of here! Sitting around and waiting to die is not an option!"

"WAPPLER!" screeched Sunny, slapping Poe. She meant: "Get a hold of yourself, Poe! We're getting out of here—I've just formulated a concise, but incredibly dangerous plan!"

"Well what is it?" Poe leaned forward with a kind of desperate interest.

Sunny bared her four razor sharp teeth and began to rake a diagram into the gravel-bed. Studying the pictures, Poe made a general observation of what the plan entailed:

1. Sunny was to scale the walls of the cavern with her teeth.

2. Next, Sunny would emerge from the opening into the sewer tunnels

3. Whilst she did this, Sunny would carve a wider path through the wall which would lead to the tunnel

4. Finally, Poe was to reimburse the damage Sunny's teeth would have taken, by paying for the

braces that she would undoubtedly need later in life

"That sounds rum." Poe stroked his chin, pondering the finer details of the plan, "I do like that part which involves me not doing anything!"

As if to silence his blubbering, Sunny bit his hand and set to work.

"You're climbing up, already?"

"Si!" Sunny nodded, "Questa la tua stagione preferita?"

Poe stared, not understanding that Sunny had just asked him what his favorite season was in Italian, "Yes—" he said gruffly, "Well, good luck, little Sunny."

Sunny gave him a salute, which Poe returned, and she began to carve her way through the wall.

* * *

><p>"What in the devil are you doing down here?" Enya was bumbling and blustering like a train that's run out of steam.<p>

Violet got to her feet and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, "Who's that?" she looked at the corpse that had been lying pellmell in the corner of the room.

"That," PM2's brow wrinkled, "That is Dr. Montgomery Montgomery. We think." he added as an afterthought. "He appears to have been murdered, possibly by the same person who killed his assistant."

"Assistant?" Violet asked, "You mean Belle? What happened to her?"

"She was bludgeoned to death with a reading lamp." Tocuna shuddered, "It was a frightful sight. We—well, at least I thought you were all dead! It's a relief to at least have you, Enya." she went over to it, "Do you know if my sister is okay?"

"Sorry, Tocuna, sorry." Enya was at a loss, "We've seen no one else since we were locked up."

"Where?"

"One of the rooms in the house." Violet was getting impatient. She wanted to get out of here at once and make sure that her family and friends were alright, "We found a secret passage, and now here we are."

"We were just waiting here." PM2 smiled, "It should at least be safe in this place."

"No! I for one, am not staying here! I need to make sure my brother and sister are safe!"

"Well, then by all means,I'll come with you!" PM2 offered, "Is isn't safe to be going out there all alone." he looked at the two of Olaf's lackeys, "What about you two? Will you come with us?"

Enya and Tocuna looked at each other, before Enya said, "Whatever. It's better than just waiting around."

"I suppose you're right, Enya." Tocuna said airily, "We'll go with you."

The four of them grouped close together and trooped down the corridor outside, hoping to meet more people.

* * *

><p>Isadora was still staring at Babbity, trying to comprehend. This crazed old bat couldn't be her mother. But there were the eyes, the shape of her face—that song. Than there was the house that she was imprisoned under: The Realm of the Serpent.<p>

"What more do I need?" she thought to herself, "A burning bush?"

Duncan was equally stunned, though he seemed less inclined to believe in the whole ordeal, "Isadora, dear sister," he said, "We have no way of knowing for sure if Babbity is Mother—"

"Duncan, you can't even remember Mom's name!"

"Nonsense!" Duncan tittered, "Mother's name was Alice."

"That is me!" chirruped Babbity.

"There's your clue, darling." said Chubs drily, "She's Alice."

"This can't be—" Duncan stammered, "It's outlandish—the mere idea—"

"It's true, Duncan." Isadora reached out to pat Babbity—or rather, Alice's—hand, "We've found Mom."

Deciding that she needed to directly address Alice, Isadora began, "Uh—Alice?"

"Who goes there?"

"I'm Isadora Quagmire." she gulped, "Isadora Lucy Jean Quagmire. Your daughter."

"Who, now?"

"She doesn't recognize me." Isadora buried her face in the crook of Chubs' arm, "It's hopeless!"

"Want to hear a story?" Alice asked, "Here ye go!"

She fished about in her old overcoat, and tossed a leather-bound notebook at Isadora's feet, "Bit of light reading!"

Isadora looked at the book. It was clearly some years old, and had been bound shut with a series of rubber bands. Post-it notes and bits of loose-leaf paper stuck out through the yellowed pages. Isadora pulled off the rubber bands and opened the diary to the first page. This confirmed it. On the first page of the book, was a letterhead reading: _This Book Belongs To_, and beneath that, signed in an elegant, black ink, was: _Alice Virginia Quagmire_.

"Mom's diary." Isadora breathed, "Duncan, come and look." she felt suddenly colder as her blue brother scrambled over, craning his neck to see over her shoulder.

"Let's have a look at it, shall we?" he suggested.

Isadora nodded. She flipped through the book, until she came to a dog-eared page about midway through. This page had the appearance of having been visited several times. It was dated: _August 18th, 2002._

THE MEMOIRS OF ALICE QUAGMIRE

Monty and I fought again, today. I had been away from the city, taking a call with Mulligan and Hoppes. Monty has seen it fit to remind me—many times—of his disapproval with my ZYK allegiances. Sir was there, as well. The meeting was about a supply of nymph lumber that our order needed from him. Sir is quite a gentleman, though he can be rash at times.

When Monty had found out where I'd been, oh how mad he was! The poor children were weeping a dickens. The poor things! They shouldn't be forced to see their parents fighting like a pair of wild boar all the time.

Monty wants to send them away to school, which I find to be just about the best solution. They are five after all. I suggested ZYK Academy—or rather, the new Academy in the Valley of the Four Deuces. I'm sure old Madame Anwhistle would be only too happy to recommend the children of her shining star, the winner of the Regional Sorcery Olympics. But Monty, as usual, was stubborn. He wants to send them to some dreadful place in the grasslands: Prufrock Prep. The vice principal there is a tyrant from all I've heard—no violin skills, whatsoever. But Monty simply doesn't want the children mixing in with 'that awful secret organization'! Honestly, I don't know what he's in such a tissy about. He's seen the work I do with ZYK; it's perfectly noble and actually benefits humans directly—unlike his work for the Board of Human Science.

Well, I'd best put the roast on. I don't want to keep Monty and the kids waiting.

August 30th, 2002

Oh, what woe is mine, dear diary! The children are being carted off to Prufrock Prep tomorrow! But, I've come up with a delicious way to get back at Monty. When I went to prepare the children for bed, I took Quigley down to the basement! He's not going to that dreadful school, oh no! I'm taking him to the Dandruff Mountains and I've seen to it that Monty is none the wiser. As for Duncan and Isadora—well, they'll have to manage without learning the tricks of the family trade. Though I might be able to procure them later.

September 1st, 2002

It worked, diary! It worked! Duncan and Isadora were sent to Prufrock Prep, and now Quigley's safely up in the mountains, at the Valley. Oh, I'm so clever.

I've already taken steps to make sure that Monty won't find out about this, but he has been acting very strangely lately. He's talking of moving—leaving Dirty Bastard, imagine!—out into the country side. Somewhere in the Dark Forest.

He wants to live in a villa! Preposterous, as I've already told him. But I'd best watch what I say around Monty; I don't want to incite his wrath.

September 5th, 2002

Today we packed out bags, loaded up the car, and drove off into the Dark Forest. I think our new home is somewhere near Tulson Wood; around that area, at least. The villa is nice enough, though I suppose it'll take a little while for it to really feel like home, if it ever does at all.

PS: Some song by the Bangles was playing on an endless loop on the ride over—one of Monty's mix tapes! I can't get it out of my head now. '_Another manic Monday! Wish it was Sunday—_' Must buy a Bangles album.

September 20th, 2002

Something decidedly terrible has happened, dear diary! This morning, we received a letter from the vice principal of Prufrock Prep that he only just managed to realize that only two of the three students that we had enrolled were actually there. He proceeded to rant for two pages that once a student was enrolled they belonged to him and his school.

Oh, dear diary, I feel terribly about Duncan and Isadora—they have been subjected to worse things then any five-year-old children should have to go through at their age!

But Monty was even worse. When he had finished reading the letter—oh, dear diary, he struck me! He demanded to know what I had done with Quigley, but I refused to tell him. He's not getting his hands on my son! Quigley will train and learn, and will become an agent of ZYK if its the last thing I do!

I'm locked in my room now, as I write this entry, diary—I fear what Monty will do to me. But I know that whatever he does to me cannot be half as bad as what is happening to Duncan and Isadora at that school.

October 3rd, 2002

Diary—oh, dear, dear, diary! I've been locked somewhere new. It's some kind of underground cell. I don't know what Monty plans to do with me next, and my pen is nearly out of ink as it is. I'm only fed once a day, and I do believe that he's—

The rest of the page was an untidy scrawl. This pattern continued on for the rest of the diary.

"Howard said that Montgomery had stuffed her with opiates." Duncan's words cut through the dead silence that had fallen after Isadora had closed the diary, "They must have been slipped into her food, so that she lost sight of who she was."

"Don't call him Montgomery anymore Duncan!" Isadora's voice rose, loud and dangerously sarcastic, "Call him Dad! Oh, dear God!" she fell on her knees and wept, hysterical, "Our father is a psycho despot! He's imprisoned us down here!" she looked at Alice, "Look at what he's done to Mom!"

Chubs held Isadora close to him, "Isadora, dear—" he began, but he did not know how to finish, Chubs was, for once, at a loss for words.

"Mother knew Sir." Duncan said at last, "I suppose that's how he knew who we were at the hotel."

"If he knew Mom, and knew where she was," Isadora spoke with venom, "Why didn't he try and save her?"

"We may never know, Isadora." Duncan patted his sister's arm, "But Mother was involved in this ZYK. According to Kit Snicket, so were Chubs' parents."

"Indeed." Chubs nodded.

"Isadora!" Duncan went on, "We have to go into the Dandruff Mountains! ZYK is there—" he sighed, "And so is our brother."

"ZYK—" Isadora retched, "I never even knew we had a brother." Isadora let out a wet cough, "Quigley. What a weird name."

"We spent so many years at Prufrock Prep—we must have forgotten him. Just like we did our parents. It had been such a long time."

"You're right Duncan." Isadora sniffled, "We have to find Quigley. But first, we have to get out of here. Save all of these people." she looked over at the crowd of mutated inmates, "And save Mom."

"And once we're out of here," proposed Chubs, "We ought to have a talk with this Montgomery. We need to find out the whole story behind this 'Demon Room'. And we must also know why he never attempted to contact you in all the years you were at school."/

"It's settled." said Duncan, "But how are we to get out, when there's water rising below us? It can't be much longer till even this chamber begins to flood."

"JUST ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY!" screeched Alice, speaking for the first time in a while, "WISH IT WAS SUNDAY!"

"She liked that song." said Isadora wistfully, "She wanted their album." she laughed a bit, "Mom does like to sing, doesn't she?"

But Alice shook her head vigorously, "FOLLOW!"

She bolted out of the amphitheater and up the passage.

"I think she wants to show us something." Duncan shrugged, he called to the others in the crowd, "Everyone! Follow us!"

Their ENORMOUS procession began again, following the woman who was barely aware of where she was.

* * *

><p>Strauss ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She had to catch those murderers! Sandbag: her favorite deputy! She'd show those snakes, all right.<p>

She'd show them—use every form of torture in her knowledge.

"I'll catch them!" she muttered to herself determinedly, "I'll flay them all alive!"

Why was that sound of rushing water growing so loud? Surely, Strauss couldn't be that close to the main drainage pipes! She had left them behind long ago.

But nevertheless, the water was rushing, and it seemed to be coming from very nearby. Strauss slowed her pace down. In all her rush, she hadn't seen where she was going. This certainly wasn't a sewer tunnel. The whole place was carved out; old columns and pavers dotted all about. What was this place? Some kind of ruin?

And the running water was near here. It was getting louder and louder with every second that passed. Later, Strauss would curse herself to high heaven for not realizing the danger that she was in.

The floodwater came from around a bend in the passage. It was frothy and dark—likely it was sewage. Strauss cried out and proceeded to enact the smartest decision that would come to her mind. She ran. Ran like hell.

It was a foolhardy notion that the water would stay behind her as she ran. The forces of nature were oftentimes so much faster than a mere human.

The tunnel began to rise upward on an incline, and Strauss began to slow down, partly because of the difficulties of running up a slope as steep as this, and partly because the water would take some time to rise enough to overcome the rise.

She fell against a bit of rubble, panting heavily. She was safe, for now. Though how would she ever make it out of here, now? Where did these old tunnels go, anyway? Hopefully, they would take her back to the outside world, where the air was fresh and the sun beat down on the earth like dapples of golden honey.

How had all that water come to get loose, though? Had a pipe burst? No. It would take an untold number of busted pipes to release that much water.

Strauss needed a plan. Should she wait, or go on? If she waited, she had the chance of not getting even more lost. If she went on, she might find her way out. But there were also negative factors to be seen to. If she stayed, she might eventually starve to death. Likewise, if she went on, she might go mad with frustration and starve anyway.

But nothing—absolutely nothing good—could come of waiting. Strauss would go on, no matter what the consequences turned out to be.

* * *

><p>I stumbled in the path. Again. For about the twelfth time.<p>

_This whole adventuring thing isn't really cut out for me, is it?_ I thought to myself as Violet helped me up again. As I thanked her, I noticed again how exotically beautiful she was. She actually looked even better now, in the grim and dirt. With her dark hair in a rat's nest, and her fine dress rumpled and slightly torn around the hem.

_Shut up, you filthy pervert!_ My little judgmental voice chastised me, She's taken by that fellow they all talk about: Duncan.

Duncan. I had never even met the man, and yet my heart was pounding with an unbridled jealousy towards him.

Violet was such a woman—so beautiful, so intelligent, so resourceful and witty. I had never known a girl quite like her, yet I had searched for one so many times throughout my days. PM1 always liked to laugh at me because of my obsession with finding someone to love. It was a sad fact that I was plain. Not overtly handsome, not especially intelligent—except for what I read out of books, and that isn't always considered useful stuff. I wasn't athletic, not at all, and I certainly wasn't much of a hand at singing and dancing either.

I was brought back to reality by Enya laughing loudly at something Tocuna—I had recently learned her real name from the others—had said.

"That's rich, Tocuna! Quite rich! As if Olaf would care enough to go back and look for us!"

"Won't anyone please tell me more about this guy?" I was quite tired of being the only one among all of them who knew not a jot about Count Olaf, except that he was an evil mastermind who liked to dress up as flamboyant personalities in order to steal the money of children. So far, he sounded quite like a maiden aunt I had.

Violet decided to exposit to me and I was only too happy to listen, "Count Olaf killed my parents. Ran them down with a train on our first day of school. According to a crazy man who once abducted me, and my long-lost aunt, he had gone to school with my parents."

"Where? He doesn't strike me as much of an ivy league man." I chuckled.

Violet smiled, "They went to school at the headquarters of a secret organization: ZYK. Just a few years after they had graduated, Olaf ran the entire ZYK headquarters down with a train. That seems to be one of the few things he's good at. Trains. He then set to traveling the world, picking up associates." she gestured to Enya and Tocuna, who were too busy with their gossip to notice our own conversation, "When the Snicket called upon him to murder my mom and dad, he was apparently promised our fortune. I guess it didn't work out that way, though, as the government hasn't actually done much to stop him—or help him, either, but that's besides the point. From then on, he's been hatching scheme after brainless scheme to get our fortune. He's also kind of interested in our friends, the Quagmires. You met one of them: Isadora. They have a fortune of their own, but their parents are still alive. Oh!" she started, remembering something, "I almost forgot. He's sort of a playboy."

"What a tradesman our friend is." I was surprised, considering that, when I had seen him, Olaf hadn't been particularly attractive or charming in any sense.

"He's had a fair share of flings. Esme the Whore, Kit Snicket, and—my sister."

"You mean little Sunny?' I gasped, incredulous.

"Yeah. They loved each other for a time, though they've broken up a few times. It wasn't too long ago, actually, that Sunny had left us behind to go about with Olaf. She's since come back to us, as you've seen, but I don't know how long it will last." she lowered her voice, "It worries me. Olaf technically only needs one of us three to be alive in order to get our fortune. I think the only reason he clings to Sunny is so he can keep her, while he kills off Chubs and I."

"I understand." I made as if to pat her shoulder, but flinched back, not knowing how my gesture would be perceived, "You've all had such a terrible time of things, no wonder you're so worldly."

"Me? Worldly?" Violet laughed, the first really happy sound she'd made since I had met her, "No. I used to spend all of my time shut up in my room, building robotic coat hangers, and rocket-powered bicycles."

"Where did you live?"

"A mansion in Dirty Bastard. It's long gone now, though."

"What happened to it?"

"A Japanese crane-building corporation set up a building there." she paused, "At least, that's what Mr. Poe told us."

"Mr. Poe?"

"He's an obese man with a bad cough. He's in charge of our affairs, but I have no idea what's happened to him since Olaf abandoned him in the Hinterlands."

"There seem to have been a lot of bad things happening to you, lately."

"Yeah. What about you?"

"There's not much to tell." I sighed, "My brother and I come from far away. We took a drive out into the forest for—some reason, I can't remember it too well, at the moment. And then we were here, in this strange world."

"What was your home called?"

"I—" I bit my lip, trying to recall the words into my memory. But the strange thing was that I couldn't remember. My mind could not bring forth the name of the place where I had spent sixteen years of my life, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Violet shook her head, "That's awful. It's like you were just plucked out of one place, and fell into another. I suppose you don't remember your family?"

"Vaguely. My parents, my brother, of course. Some of my other relatives, as well. And I can sort of think back to my past. But most things just seem to have fallen out of my mind."

Violet looked confused—just as much as I was, "That makes no sense. You and your brother must come from an alternate dimension."

"Well, I'd love as much as anything to head back there." I said, forlorn.

"Well, we must find a way to send you back. Once we all get out of here."

"You think you know a way?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm an inventor." Violet smiled, "You forget that I'm smarter than most girls my age."

"It's the same where I come from." I smiled, "Most girls I know are rather shallow little ditzes." I thought for a moment, "Do you have this thing called _Twilight_ in this world?"

"You mean the time of day?"

I sighed with relief at her ignorance of the subject, "That's beautiful! That really is! No wonder everyone's so intelligent in this place. Without _Twilight_, you've all had time to develop."

"Keep up you two rascals!" Enya called over its shoulder to us.

"Be right there!" I told them, this time helping Violet over a chunk of masonry that her boot had snagged on.

I knew now, without question, that I was head over heels in love with Violet Baudelaire.

* * *

><p>"ARE WE HUMAN? OR ARE WE DANCER?" Alice sang in a voice as soft as someone like her could manage, "MY SIGN IS VITAL—MY HANDS ARE COLD!"<p>

"Your mum's real chipper, Isadora." Chubs laughed. He expected Isadora to be angry at his comment, perhaps to take him by the shoulders and shake him blue. But she smiled, "You know, as messed up as this whole thing is, it's kinda nice to be spending time with my Mom."

Chubs winked at his girlfriend and continued, "If that diary we read is at all an accurate representation—which I believe it is—than your mum was far more interested in you than my own."

"What was your Mom like, Chubs?" Isadora pursed her lips, "You don't talk about her very much."

"Yes, and with good reason. She was a secretive little devil, if there ever way one. If we hadn't met mum's sister at that carnival, than I don't think we ever would have found out half the things that she was hiding from us."

"Like what?"

"She was bald. I always thought that the flamboyant hats she always wore, testified to her eccentricity. But no—baldness was apparently a gene on my mother's part."

"But aren't all traits possessed by the mother passed to the offspring?" asked Isadora.

My freshman biology teacher entered, roaring at the top of his lungs and charging Chubs, "YOU DO NOT GO OVER YOUR NOTES!"

"This is a story!" wailed Chubs, trying to remove himself from my teacher's linebacker-esque arms, "We can afford some scientific inaccuracy."

"YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE HAS SCIENTIFIC INACCURACY?" the professor bellowed.

"What?"

"_TWILIGHT!_"

"What in blue blazes is that?"

"NEVER YOU MIND ABOUT THAT! JUST KNOW THAT THE AUTHOR THINKS THAT BRAZIL HAS A WEST COAST, AND THAT MENSTRUATION IS DEAD BLOOD! Goodbye."

He left, thus ending the confusion that about eighty-five percent of readers felt at this sequence.

"As I was saying," Chubs went on, as Isadora helped him to his feet, "Mother was bald, and her elder sister—whom she never told us about—was the Wicked B*tch of the West, who was also Madame Lulu, who was the woman at the carnival in the Hinterlands."

"It seems both of our families are rife with secrets."

Suddenly, a sharp hissing voice reached Isadora's ear, "Donovan's outfit is rife with Commies!"

Isadora shrieked and jumped half a foot into the air. She turned around and saw that the person who had spoken was Alice, smiling devilishly.

"Yes, Mom?" she asked, presuming her whispering to be some sort of a code.

"We're here." she beamed.

Chubs, Isadora, Duncan—everyone, looked before them and saw what Alice had been leading them toward. It was a conical rise, lined with steps, like a Mesoamerican pyramid. On top of this rather tall structure was—well, something that couldn't be clearly made out from the vantage point of the refugees.

"Oh Mother, you are a marvel!" Duncan cheered, "We'll be perfectly safe from the waters up there!" "Way! Way!" a voice from the extreme rear of the party made itself heard over all of their excited chatter, "The waters are coming! The waters are coming!"

"Sounds like some kind of fool joke." Chubs dismissed. And then he noticed the water flowing and frothing toward them, already consuming people and things.

"CLIMB!" Alice roared, "INTO THE FOREST! THE QUEEN'S MAD, JEALOUS OF YOU! RUN! RUN UP THE STEPS!"

They were all ready enough to do whatever it was that she said at this point. And so they dashed up the steps.

A/N: And I'm hoping to have a ripping action chapter coming up next! Ripping—that's kind of weird. Also, my Bio teacher couldn't help but come on in there and point out the little error I had made that, if science applied, all three—or at least, just two—of the Baudes should have been bald, like their Mom. Because their granddad, Edgarbear was also bald, Olivia's hair was a birth-defect. Their grandma, Minerva's hair-status, I never elaborated on, but let's say she had hair and through some miracle of Punnet Square organization, all three Baudes were born with hair. Also, as you may be able to tell, I'm not a fan of _Twilight_. I didn't mean to offend any readers who are fans, but I just can't stand the series. Expect more Twi-Bashing to come in later chapters, and maybe even books. God, this is a long note.

Update Coming Next Friday!:)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9, In Which Certain Events Happen That Recall Moments of Book 2 For Many, Including Me

Disclaimer: For our foreign language of the week—Nous ne possédons rien. Indeed.

A/N : We're back! How are you all? We're well. Yes—well, might as well start now: {with thanks to Gypsy Rosalie for reviewing the past few chapters. We always love hearing from you!}

"Did you hear that?" Carmelita asked me, and we stopped short. The tunnels around us weren't that of a sewer any longer. They were a passage lined with finely hewn bricks, laced together with sturdy mortar that looked as if it had been in place for many years. There were electrical lights strung up from the arched ceiling. The bulbs were dim and flickered on-and-off intermittently. My ears picked up the sound that had made Carmelita so nervous. Footsteps. Quite a few footsteps.

"What if it's the same person who killed the deputy?" Carmelita kept her voice so quiet, for fear of having the approaching people hear her, that I had to be extraordinarily attentive to hear what she was saying.

"Stay close." I told her at last, as we moved forward.

"No, no, no!" Carmelita pulled me back, "We are not walking toward them!"

"They could be friendly."

"Yeah, and I'm a swimsuit model!" her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"You know, you could be a model." said I, drily, "You've got just the right figure—"

"Oh, shut up!" she scowled, but I could tell that she had been cheered up slightly.

Too late! The footsteps had reached us, and we saw who had made them.

"Number Two?" I gasped.

"Number One?" my brother was equally shocked.

"Redhead brat?" gaped the man-woman.

"Cake sniffing orphan trash?" Carmelita stared at the brunette girl.

The girl snapped back, "Stuck-up, priggish uptown girl?"

We all stared at each other, until the chubby pale woman exclaimed, "Good heavens, my dear Carmella—"

"It's 'Carmelita'." sighed the person whose name is exactly what can be read in-between those quotation marks.

The woman went on, "Yes, Carmelita. What in the name of heaven are you doing here? I thought you flew off with Esme and that ravishing Phantom character!"

"I fell out of the sky—"

Tocuna overlapped her, singing, "And suddenly Cupid aimed his arrow and shot you, got you—"

"No, Tocuna." Carmelita interrupted, "This guy: Plot Murderer #1 saved me, and one thing led to another—"

My brother flinched, "He didn't get you pregnant, did he?"

"No!" Carmelita grimaced, "We found ourselves down here."

PM2 crossed his arms and frowned at me, "You know, I knew you wouldn't stay in the car. I can't imagine what could have possessed you to wander out into the forest in that storm—"

"I was trying to find help!"

"_I_ was trying to find help!"

"Well, that's rather hard to believe considering you never came back!"

"I was locked in a house of horrors!"

"I was almost arrested!"

Carmelita cut in, "I saw a dead body!  
>The other girl put her bit in, "So did we!"<p>

PM2 added, "We also found a body."

The man-woman was scrutinizing us, "Are you two related, or something?"

"We are." the both of us said, almost in the same breath.

Carmelita and the other girl surveyed the both of us, and then spoke, also almost in the same breath, "This is the brother you talked about?"

Carmelita stared at the other girl and spat out, "Jinx! Jinx! Jinx! You've got to buy me a soda!"

"Shut up, Carmelita." Violet sighed.

And it was so that we each related our own stories to each other, and I found myself not believing that so many things of the weirdest caliber could happen to me. I wasn't firmly convinced in all the talk that PM2 and I had fallen into an alternate dimension, but it was true that I could remember almost nothing of my life before we had set out in the car and ended up in the Dark Forest.

"We ought to keep going." the woman—whose name, I learned, was Tocuna—said.

"Don't bother." I pointed back the way Carmelita and I had come, "There's nothing there but a maze of sewer tunnels that lead nowhere in particular."

The girl—whose named I had also learned, as being Violet—added, pointing the way her group had come, "And there's nothing back there but a body, and a broken down elevator that leads to a house with no possible exit."

"So which way?" The man-woman—'Enya' so I'd heard—scratched its head, "We have to go somewhere."

"Unless, that is, you want to go nowhere." came a voice, reverberating off the walls of the tunnel.

"Spirits!" Tocuna gasped, clutching her heart.

Enya spoke, addressing no one in particular, "Spirit who haunts this cave tonight, why do you plague us, weary travelers?"

"I shall tell you, blob, if you can find who I am."

Enya swallowed laboriously, it seemed to be costing him a lot to speak, "Are you a vegetable?'

"No."

"Are you a mineral?"

"No."

"Are you an animal?"

"As that is the only category left, yes."

"Are you woman?"

"No."

"Are you man?"

"Once again, that is the only other option, so I say yes."

"Are you old?"

"Somewhat."

Enya was by now red in the face as a strawberry, "I'm out of questions! One of you ask him something."

Violet shrugged, "Are you Count Olaf?"

"Shut up!"

"I guess that's a yes."

"No! No! No, it isn't! I didn't say anything!"

"We know it's you, Olaf."

"Shut up, you slutty vixen!"

"Oh, I know you didn't just go there!" Violet then made a show of snapping her finger in a variety of peculiar shapes and patterns, "I'll claw your eyes out, you cowardly bastard! Where are you hiding?"

"I said shut up! I am going to chop you all up into tiny pieces and eat your livers!"

"I hope I give you liver poisoning!" Carmelita shrieked in the general direction of the voice.

"Shut up!"

Tocuna pleaded, "Please, Olaf! Spare Enya and I! We've just been trying to escape these evil teenagers and their raging hormones!"

"I call bull-crap on that!" PM2 pointed at her, "She's been wandering around the place with me since the lights went off in the house!"

"Did you kill Montgomery and the others?" Violet asked.

"Shut up! I am not Olaf!" here, he began making a series of clicking noises.

"That's the code!" Enya gasped, it responded to this by making clicking sounds of its own.

"Come on!" I pointed at this display, "This is stupid! Clearly, the Olaf guy's just chattering away with his assistants as gaily as a couple of birds in the cherry tree!"

"We had a truce, Enya!" Violet reminded it, "You said you wouldn't do anything to me—or my friends—until we were all out of here. Well, we're still here! You can't touch us!"

Enya was ignoring her, though, and grabbed Tocuna by the shoulder, "Quickly, Tocuna! Olaf's given me directions!"

Tocuna nodded, and giving one last look at us, the two of them ran off.

"They're heading back into the sewer!" I rallied my companions, "After them! They know the way out!"

We ran after them—keeping a safe distance so that our prey would not see us with ease.

* * *

><p>"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" Sunny had grown tired. The tunnel that she was carving through the walls of the cavern was quite long, and may even be at a proper width to contain Poe. But still, this was very tiring work. And here it was, that she seem to have come to another wall, she bit through it—this took about twenty minutes in and of itself—and found herself scrambling into another passage. Without even bothering too look along it, Sunny called down: "Poe! Ho!" Which, though you might think it means something dirty, actually meant: "Poe! Get your fat ass up here!"<p>

"Aye!" Poe's voice echoed up the little space towards her. Now, I find it will be rather fun to narrate Poe's climbing exploits, so I will do so without actually shifting the scene.

Poe loosened his old cravat, and sucked his stomach in as much as he could. It would be difficult getting up there, but this was his life on the line.

The little crawl-space was a tight-squeeze for Poe, as his hips jammed themselves at inconvenient times throughout the whole ordeal At once point, Poe quite believed that he was stuck without any means of ever moving on, "Help! Help!" he called, "Help! Help! My rumpus is stuck! My rumpus is stuck!"

Sunny found herself face-palming as Poe finally managed to emerge in the new tunnel.

"Oh, my poor legs!" he moaned, rubbing said appendages, which were sore and stiff. Sunny tittered, "Move!" which meant, "We're wasting time, fatass! Let's move!"

And only now did the two actually take a notice of their surroundings. It was a sewer stretch, though one vastly different from the one Poe had been exploring. This area was older—moldering in a sort of tangible haze over the mucky water that ran through it.

"Heigh ho!" Sunny pointed forward, she meant: "Come on, Poe! There's no time for dawdling!"

"Right behind you!" Poe told her, as he finished chasing rats out of his jacket cuffs.

They made off, Poe trying hard to keep his footing steady.

"Splash!" Sunny put her hand to her ear.

"Pardon?" Poe paused, "What is it?"

"Splash!" Sunny repeated pointedly.

And Poe heard it. A splashing—people were coming.

"Back! Back!" Sunny bit Poe's thigh, causing him to fall on the floor.

But it was too late for hiding. The splashing and sploshing was upon them.

"Violet?" Sunny stared.

"Sunny!" gasped Violet.

"Déjà veu!" nodded the young man—PM2, as Sunny remembered from the house.

The two Baudelaire sisters embraced heartily, Violet with tears streaking down her face, "Oh, thank God, you're alright!"

Sunny rolled her eyes, "Robust!" which meant: "I'm two years old, Vi! I can take care of myself!"

Poe scoffed, "What ever happened to you being 'a helpless infant'?"

Only than did Violet seem to notice that he was there. She rushed to him and locked him in a hug too, "Oh, Mr. Poe! How did you end up down here?"

"Well, I—"

"Oh, never mind about that! You've saved Sunny's life!"

Here, Poe flushed beet red, and Sunny said, affronted: "Badeski!" which meant: "What the hell are you talking about? I did all of the work! I carved a tunnel wide enough for a fatass, using only four teeth!"

"That's nice, Sunny." Violet said, off-hand, "I'd like to introduce you two to my new friends: Sunny, you already know Plot Murderer #2."

'"Hello." PM2 waved, smiling.

"This is his brother: Plot Murderer #1."

"How are you doing?" spoke the younger brother, who must have been PM1.

"They come from an alternate universe." said Violet knowingly, "And I think we all know Carmelita Spats." she grimaced, clearly not too impressed by the red-head. Sunny remembered Carmelita rather vaguely. The girl had loved tormenting Violet, but had for the most part left Sunny herself alone. Therefore, she had no qualms about giving Carmelita a gentle bite on the hand, as a greeting.

Carmelita, though, apparently took this to mean something entirely different, "OW! CAKESNIFFING, BABY, ORPHAN BRAT! I'M GOING TO BLEED TO DEATH!"

PM1 took the liberty of examining her hand and assuring her, "It's gonna be fine, doll. You're not bleeding."

Carmelita sighed in relief, "Oh, thank God!"

Sunny—with help from Poe—than told them about Molars the shark, and her plan to escape the lagoon, as well of Olaf's crazed plan in general. Violet and the others than shared how they had heard Olaf's voice, and that Enya and Tocuna had run off to meet him, apparently as an escape route.

"If we must follow them to escape," said Poe, matter-of-factly, "Then we must hurry! They could be miles ahead of us by now! All of this conversation has been wasting our precious time!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" PM2 was suddenly very excited, "I don't want to spend another minute down here!"

"Then let us run!"

And they ran, hoping that they would still be able to follow the trail of the two henchfolk.

* * *

><p>"I DID MY BEST TO NOTICE, WHEN A CALL CAME DOWN THE LINE. UP TO THE PLATFORM OF SURRENDER—"<p>

"She has to stop singing that same song over and over again." Isadora rubbed her temples. They had paused to rest on a landing halfway up the 'cone', as they had dubbed the step-pyramid they were mounting. The waters were now surrounding the rise on all sides, and quite a few had already been lost. There were still plenty of others, who were making camp. Chubs had even made friends with some of them, and was debating the upsides and downsides of kiwi fruit with a spherical man named Xibaldo.

Duncan was sitting with Isadora, and they were both taking pains not to notice Alice's singing. The diary—which Isadora was flipping through for about the hundredth time—wasn't much interesting in the early pages. It seemed Alice and 'Monty' had always quarreled over Alice's job at ZYK, and—her sorcery.

Chubs had told Isadora, in an attempt to comfort her, that his aunt had attended Madame Anwhistle's sorcery seminar herself when she was at ZYK Academy. Then again, this same aunt had turned out to be an outlaw for a number of crimes that she had never committed.

Isadora couldn't help wondering—what did being a sorceress entail? How did someone inherit magical powers?

Did the rule apply only to women, or could men receive the power, too? What if—and here, Isadora felt a kind of mischievous twinge—what if she had inherited the power from her mother? According to Alice's diary, sorceress' usually realized their powers by their sixteenth birthday; Isadora was thirteen. A sorceress had power over the elements, over time and space. They could even, after much training, bring the dead back to life. Evidently, Chubs' aunt had never had much time to train—as she had never exhibited these powers. But she had been a woman on the run. Alice, too, might be able to perform great feats—if she had not lost her mind. But, if Isadora ever found that she had the powers of sorcery, could she fix everything? Bring Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire back to life, help her father realize that there was no shame in his wife—curing her mother from her insanity. Ridding them all from Count Olaf, once and for all!

If she could perform magic—she could do all of that.

A tap on the arm brought Isadora back to the present, "Yeah, Duncan?"

"Sister, we must move on! The water is still rising, and we'd like to get to the top of this thing before it's too late." he sounded genial enough. The water must still be far enough below them to warrant a good mood.

"How much water do you think there is?" she asked her brother, "Do you think there's enough to put this whole thing underwater?"

Duncan laughed, though it sounded a tad uneasy, "Nonsense, dear sister! There can't be that much water! Now, let's move on."

They continued their assent, Isadora helping her mother along—she was now doing a run of Tom Jones' greatest hits. Chubs caught up with them too, with round Xibaldo in his arms. Said Chubs, "I had to carry the poor fellow. How is he ever going to manage rolling up the stairs?"

"Yes, yes, I'd never manage!" Xibaldo chuckled, prompting Chubs to laugh again for no apparent reason.

"There you are, you damned rascals!" drawled a menacing voice.

The children turned around to see who had been speaking to them. It was Flo: soaking wet, her pinstripes bedraggled and rumpled, her shoes waterlogged.

"Oh!" Isadora gasped, "Flo—" she had quite forgotten about her.

"You bastards left me behind!" every word she spoke reeked of her fury, "I had to race gallons upon gallons of filthy water, and then I had to climb this damned thing in heels!" She reached into her raven hair and pulled out the last of her poor, poor hairpins, letting the black mass of her hair fall down around her waist.

"We're sorry!" Chubs told her, "We simply spoke with Duncan, and then we were walking along, and we just forgot that you'd been left behind!"

"I was treated better in Olaf's company, for God's sake! You brats just leave me there to die? I really should push you off of this damn mountain thing right now!"

Duncan decided to point something out, "The water is rising ever higher, Miss. I think we'd better move."

Flo looked down and noticed the truth, already several of the stragglers to their party had been swallowed by the brackish waves. The others were trampling each other underfoot in their attempt to make it even higher up the cone.

"Run!" Flo snapped at them, "Don't just stand there, you idiots! Get out of my way!" she pushed past them as she continued her climb up the steps.

The others followed her, hoping not to get separated in all of the confusion.

* * *

><p>Strauss gasped and sputtered, seizing hold of something—at last, something to hold onto!<p>

The water had caught up to her at last, and if it wasn't for the occasional piece of debris to grab onto, she would have been drowned with no hope of ever escaping. This was all on the account on those blasted fugitives! If they had just let themselves be ripped apart by viscous dogs, than Strauss wouldn't have had to chase them into the sewer, Sandbag wouldn't have died, and Strauss wouldn't be coasting through the catacombs, half-drowned and all alone.

_"Damn people in general!"_ the thought ran through Strauss' mind, _"That fat man, that boy—that girl, the blasted girl!"_

Why was life so cruel to her? People were supposed to show respect to people of the law—that's why she had signed up to be a forest patrol-officer in the first place! Respect., pah! As if anyone showed her respect—her men, did. But they were likely more afraid than impressed.

People did love to treat her spitefully. It may have been her badge, her attitude, or just the fact that she was a woman. Her father would have thought highly of the latter. Women, he had always said, belonged in the dance halls and ballrooms. Needless to say, he had approved of Esme the Whore before she had been kidnapped. Also obvious, was that he detested figures like Kit Snicket, who ran about the country, not listening to what their male counterparts said.

But her father was dead now. He had been for many years. As for her mother—still living in an old folks' home in Dirty Bastard. Strauss did not want to visit her, and she hadn't in years.

The water continued to pull and toss her around—was this the end for her? Was everything over? No! No, it couldn't be over yet! There was some sort of conical structure rising up ahead of her. It was lined with steps, and there was some sort of brass sculpture or mechanism, some such thing, on the top. If she could just get onto it—

Even better! A boat was sailing her way. A motor boat with a sleek body and an elegant sense of charm.

Faster than you could say: 'It's a trap, you idiot!' Strauss began flagging the boat over with her free arm, calling: "Help! Help! Over here!"

The boat did indeed turn toward her, and began its steady journey over. When the boat had drawn near enough, a hand helped Strauss on board.

"Thank you—" she gasped, coughing water out of her lungs, "Thank you so much."

But before she could ask who in the world sailed a boat around underground, a revolver was thrust into her face.

"We weren't expecting a police officer." sneered the man who held the gun, "Please sit down. Make yourself at home."

* * *

><p>"I've never been more hopelessly wet in all my life!" Carmelita lamented, shaking more water out of her shoes.<p>

She was hating this. So far, the only good thing that had come of this senseless expedition was her meeting PM1, who was currently humming to himself whilst she struggled about like a severe dunce. As she stumbled once more, Carmelita pondered once more on Esme's whereabouts. Had she made it through the storm safely? What of Dewey, and all of his eccentricity? And then Carmelita thought, none too wistfully, of her old life. The life she had left behind when she had decided to follow Olaf and his crew.

Her parents: those wealthy, stubborn aristocrats. What had happened to them? Were they wondering where she was, and what had happened to the daughter that had barely paid any attention to? No. Likely, they had already bought a Pomeranian dog like they had always wanted. They had probably named it Mortola.

Carmelita's hands went once again to her hair, and the two combs that she had tucked in amongst the red strands. These combs were just as red as her hair. They were made of ruby, though they had once been silver. Esme had told her the whole story of what had happened to the combs that she had stolen from the wreck of the Baudelaire car on that day, those many months ago. They had belonged to Violet's mother. Did Violet know by now? If she did, than she didn't know Carmelita had the combs.

That was good. She didn't want Violet to have another reason to hate her. Violet was looking for Duncan. Duncan was in danger. Bitterly, Carmelita thought back to the weeks in which she and Duncan had dated—how they had loved each other! But, lo and behold, she had left, and in a mere month's time, Duncan had found Violet. And that had been a done deal. They were devoted to each other. But Carmelita wanted to see Duncan, if for the last time. She wanted to see how he loved Violet. And whether he still had feelings for her.

Was she really so shallow? Carmelita didn't like thinking she was, but it stood that way. She longed to see him, touch his face—even if it was currently ice cold—maybe even clutch his hand for a few precious moments.

No one had turned to her as they walked. PM1 occasionally lent a hand to help her along, as he had when they were walking alone together. His brother was also having rather a hard time of the trip as she was. Violet was helping him along—how laughable! That girl had far too many admirers. But she had eyes only for Duncan. Carmelita, though, was full of conflicting emotions. PM1 was so darling—and yet, there was Duncan. She had to see Duncan.

The water was getting deeper now; up to Carmelita's waist, "I think this is a bad sign."

"Really?" Violet smirked, "That looks like something good."

Carmelita followed her gaze over, across yards of deeper and deeper muck. A pyramid, surrounded by steps—and with the distant specks of people marching up them.

"There's already people climbing up!" PM2 beamed, "All we have to do is swim."

Carmelita balked at him, "Swim? There is no way I'm swimming!"

"Why not?" asked PM1.

"I—I don't like water."

"Noticed!" the baby brat rolled her eyes.

After a heated argument, Carmelita was persuaded to go along with the others, swimming through the mess.

* * *

><p>"Come on!" Chubs helped Isadora up the steps, "Isadora, do keep up!"<p>

Chubs himself wasn't faring especially well, himself. Huffing and puffing, all of this exertion was doing a lot to his tubby figure.

They were almost to the top now, but the water was close behind them. As they ran, more and more of the Demon Room inmates were unable to keep up, and found themselves being swallowed by the waves. Duncan had discovered a rather novel way to—temporarily—keep the water level down. As they ascended, Duncan held his hands over the wide expanse below them and concentrated all of his energy in freezing this water. It was impossible to turn the whole mass into ice, but freezing sections was highly possible, though the ice would just burst apart in the muggy temperatures of the tunnels.

"Duncan, old boy, enough of that!" Chubs caught his attention, "We're nearly there!"

Duncan turned to Chubs and shook himself, "Yes, yes, of course! I'll be right behind you!"

"No, Duncan!" Isadora insisted, "It's hopeless, trying to freeze everything! Just move, come on!"

Duncan sighed, dejected, "Whatever you say, dear sister."

"Mom, take my hand!" Isadora had noted that Alice had fallen on the steps.

"MEET ME ON MY VAST VERANDAH!" was Alice's sung reply, "MY SWEET, UNTOUCHED MIRANDA!" But she took her daughter's hand and went on with her.

"Xibaldo!" Chubs called over the panicking crowd, "Xibaldo, where are you?"

"Help me, Master Chubs!" moaned the little round man, who was rolling down the steps, "Help me!"

Chubs lunged forward and saved his friend, just before he rolled far enough away. Chubs continued up the stairs, now holding Xibaldo under his arm, and keeping a hold on Isadora—who was holding Alice—with his free hand.

Duncan was the first to make it to the top of the cone.

"By Jove!" Chubs heard him cry, "What are you—"

But there was an unsettling sound—a sound that was rather out of place—a sound like a gunshot. And Duncan was silenced.

Isadora screamed and let go of the hands of both Alice and Chubs, running like the wind up the remaining steps. Chubs stayed close behind her, making sure that Alice wasn't far behind.

What he saw at the top astounded him.

A/N: This was perhaps the most evil cliff-hanger we've ever pulled off! Have we killed Duncan off? Has he survived? Who in the name of all that is holy is standing on top of the cone? And why has Strauss been taken captive aboard the boat of a man whom we ought to know the identity of by now?

Well, you'll have to wait seven days and seven nights for the answers to these questions.

Update Coming Next Friday!:)


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10, Confrontations, Confrontations

Disclaimer: In keeping with the foreign language theme from several long months back—Siamo proprietari di nulla. il resto, devo scusarmi per la mia negligenza profusamente malvagi.

A/N: Awkward, I know. It's been, what, almost half a year, right? There was _so _much occuring in my damnable personal life that got in the way of things. But, I would like to say that wen are back with chapter ten—and soon enough, much more.

First of all, we'd like to thank Gypsy Rosalie for reviewing us as always {it is lovely to have a fan as dedicated as you!}, and also thanks to the Nerdy Mirror Maze Queen for reviewing Book 4! Welcome to the ASoQE world! And, now for the news. After completing this particular installment of Queer Events, us Plot Murderers will indeed continue with this series, and as an added bonus will be starting an entirely new project! Now, I won't wax poetic about it now, suffice it to say that I believe it will be the finest thing my palpatating creative mind has ever produced.

But I'll let you guys be the judge of that—when it happens. And now, without further ado, on with the story!

Isadora didn't know where to look first. Duncan lay merely three feet before her. He was bleeding from a wound in the chest—it was still smoking.

Her eyes next went to her brother's assailant—it was a serpent. Thick and black, with eyes green as jade. His pipe-like body was curled around an—also smoking—shotgun.

"What—" Isadora stammered, "I don't—"

Suddenly she was seized from behind. The hook-handed man had taken hold of her, digging his hooks none-to-gently into her waist, "Careful now, pretty." he snarled, "We don't want you having any accidents."

Flo crossed before her, also holding a gun. A revolver, in this case. She trained the firearm on Isadora, and hissed, "Not a word, honey, or we'll blast you off the face of the earth."

Isadora clamped her mouth shut tightly, though she feared more than ever what would happen when Chubs reached them. And her mother.

Who was this snake? Wasn't he the one that Duncan had mentioned as having left to fix the floodgates? And here he was, shooting down the person to whom he had been his only friend in this dismal place.

The footsteps clattered on up the steps, and Chubs arrived, round little Xibaldo under his arm. Alice was right on his heels, humming to herself in a daze, "Isadora!" Chubs started, panting. And then he noticed, "Why—cor' blimey!" Chubs never said such things as 'blimey!' except when he was petrified in utter shock. This was clearly one of those times.

"I'M WALKING ON SUNSHINE!" Alice was singing, "WOO-OO!" Did she realize at all that her son was lying on the floor, dead—or dying, at least?

"Hello." the snake nodded, "You must be the friends of Mr. Crap."

"Howard!" Xibaldo gasped, "What is the meaning of this?" he blustered even further, "You are our leader—"

"I'll get to my monologue later." Howard sighed, "At present, Xibaldo, I'd prefer to continue being ominous and dramatic." he looked to Alice and chuckled, "My new helpers tell me that old Babbity's your mum." his glimmering, hypnotic stare fixed itself on Isadora, "That's quite impressive. Very funny, too. And our lovely Overlord is your father. Well, he's dead now."

"Dead?" Isadora asked incredulously.

"Yes, and you're one of the first to know. I killed him, of course."

Isadora tried to step back, but Hooky was having none of it. He twisted her arm behind her back with the crook of his—well, his hook. Isadora hissed in pain, and Chubs made to go to her, though he too was seized by Flo, dropping Xibaldo to the floor, where he rolled dangerously near the edge of the cone.

Neither Howard, nor the others, seemed to mind Alice still being free. The woman just sat there on the worn stones, playing with her hands as though she had never before noticed them. What about the others? The thought suddenly ran through Isadora's mind. There were still a few other inmates who were on their way.

As though he had read her mind, Howard spoke, "Don't mind the others, dear girl. They won't make it."

"What do you mean?" asked Chubs, "They're nearly up here, as it is!"

"You might want to have a rain-check on that. My other new-found helpers will be here presently, and they are dealing with my old Demon Roommates." he laughed lightly at his own pun.

Isadora looked at her brother, "Why?" she asked the slimy serpent, "Why did you shoot him?"

"To give us some bartering material." Howard executed a kind of head-bobbing, which might have been interpreted as a shrug, "He's not dead, you know. He will bleed to death within two hours, though. I can save him, if you act compliantly."

"Don't listen to him, Isadora!" Chubs told her, "He's deceiving you! I am certain, he is!"

Isadora ignored him, saying to Howard, "What am I to do?"

"For now, you stay still and wait."

"Wait for what?"

"A boat. It will be along soon enough, and then I will organize some story time, if you will."

Isadora wasn't happy about the arrangements, but she stopped struggling against the hooks.

If it would save her brother from death, than she would do anything.

* * *

><p>I opened my eyes wearily. What had happened? The last I remembered was screaming in terror as the wild currents swept us out. There had been a boat. A boat underground, yes, but it was still a boat.<p>

Looking around, I saw that we were on that boat. PM1 was lying next to me, still out cold. Violet was up and aware, and she bolted over to me the moment she saw that I had woken up, "Finally, someone to talk to!" she said, voice running a mile a minute, "We've got to get off this thing!"

I stared at her, not comprehending, "Violet, what are you talking about?"

"Olaf is steering the boat!" she whispered, her voice grating like nails on a chalkboard. She looked surreptitiously at the captain's nest at the far end of the deck, and I saw she was right. Olaf, still wearing his disheveled 'Alfonso' disguise, was sitting at the helm, guiding our little craft closer and closer to the pyramid-like thing, which was already half-submerged under the floodwater.

"Enya and Tocuna are below deck!" Violet went on, "They have some kind of police-woman down there. They tied her to a post and everything!"

I cast my eyes over the edge of the boat. There were bodies in the water. Bodies of many people: deformed, mutated people. There was even a giant, green canary drifting about a little way off from us.

"Violet, where are we going to go, if we manage to get off this boat?" I asked her, "The current's too strong out there! We'd never last."

"Don't say that!" Violet snapped, tying her hair back with an old, silk ribbon. She looked different with her hair in a ponytail. Older, more alert, "I'll think of something." she smiled at me, a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless, "I always have. And I always will."

I looked at her sitting there, thinking so hard behind her furrowed brow. I swept her into a hug, holding her close to me, "I'm sure you'll manage." I said to her, "You're Violet Baudelaire."

Violet nodded to me, and said, "I need you to distract Olaf. I'm going below deck to free the police woman."

"Sure."

I crept my way over to the captain's nest and whispered in Olaf's ear: "There's no earthly way of knowing, which direction we are going. There's no knowing where we're rowing—" I let out a moaning sound, which caused Olaf to jump into the air, "Is the grisly Reaper mowing, for we're still going, going, going! Showing no signs that we are slowing, for the rowers keep on rowing! HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!" I laughed shrilly. Olaf spun around to glare at me, "What are you doing, you loon? Do you want us to capsize?"

"Yes!" I replied.

A strange sort of scuffle ensued, in which Olaf and I showed off our—nonexistent—fighting skills. In this tussle, my brother, as well as the fat man: Poe, woke.

"What's all of this hullabaloo?" Poe wondered, rubbing his eyes, "I haven't slept so soundly in days!"

PM1 was quicker on the uptake than he, "They're having some kind of fight!" he whispered to Poe, loud enough that I could hear, "He took boxing lessons in grade-school. An epic fail if there ever was one!"

How the hell did he remember that? I thought to myself. Well, I suppose some plots can have holes in the name of comedy.

"Idiot!" I called to him, "Take the wheel! Steer us to the big rock!" I gestured to the pyramid with my elbow.

"You're not getting away that easily!" Olaf roared, biting my hand.

"Blast and botheration!" I swore—if that can be considered a swear—at the top of my lungs. My brother wasn't an utter fool, though. He ran over to the captain's seat and took the helm, steering us on our way.

Meanwhile, Poe was setting to waking up the other two members of our party: Carmelita and Violet's baby sister. I hoped that neither of them were too badly shaken, as I continued barely holding my own against Olaf.

* * *

><p>Violet crept down the narrow steps to the boat's cabin. The ceiling was rather low, and she had to stoop down to move. Enya and Tocuna were huddled at the far end of the cabin, looking over the police-woman, who was still bound and gagged in a corner.<p>

This official looked far worse for wear. Her jet-black hair had been pulled into a bun, which was now wild as forest nettles. Her LSPD uniform was soaked beyond recognition, and was rumpled as a washing rag to boot. But worst of all, was the expression on the woman's face. She wore a mixture of terror, indignation, and incredulity that made her resemble a wily pug dog.

"Should we flay her, again?" Enya addressed its partner.

Tocuna bit her lip, "Let's not. The poor thing's only got a few more hours to live. Why ruin them?"

The officer said some things, though they were muffled by the old rag that they had gagged her with.

"Poor dear." Tocuna sighed, "Well, there's nothing we can do for her, now. Why do you think she was down here in the first place?"

"Probably chasing those kids. We did pick up some of them who weren't in the house when we arrived."

Tocuna leaned against the wall, and let out a shaky breath. Her dull eyes flicked around the cabin. And she saw Violet.

Tocuna let out a wild cry, that made Enya jump, "What's the meaning of all that?" it asked furiously.

Tocuna pointed at Violet and uttered a strange series of whistles, moans, and chirps. This annoyed Enya even further, "Stop singing!" it told her, "STOP IT, I SAY!"

Only then, did it follow Tocuna's gaze, seeing the ingenious girl with her hair in a ribbon, lurking behind the stairs.

Enya roared and charged, though at that precise moment, PM1 began steering the boat. The whole craft executed a three-hundred-sixty degree turn on the water, and proceeded to tilt itself halfway into the air. The boxes and crates that had been stored in the cabin slid all about, some of them bursting open and raining a shower of old clothes and cleaning detergents down on them all.

The police-woman screamed, loud and clear now that her gag had slipped down from her face. She was still pinned to that pillar, and was forced to endure every nauseating twist and turn the boat took.

Violet, being resourceful as she was, picked up a box labeled: _Old Shoes_, and tossed it at the two of Olaf's henchfolk. The box split open on making contact with Enya's broad body. Penny loafers, slippers, even jagged stilettos spilled out every which way, the majority of them pummeling Enya and Tocuna to the ground.

While the two were distracted, Violet took one of the stilettos, and began to hack through the ropes that bound the officer. This was a complicated process, made even more difficult by the moving of the boat.

Once she was free, the officer stood on wobbling legs and grasped Violet's hand, "Thank you, thank you, so much!"

Violet nodded and said, "Quickly, get up on deck!"

The two women made for the stairs. Once on deck, Violet closed the door behind her, drawing the bolt and sealing Enya and Tocuna away inside.

* * *

><p>"Ah! Here they come, now." said Howard approvingly. He was right: a motor boat was just now pulling up alongside the pyramid—most of which was underwater by now. The other inmates who had been mounting the steps to the top had been swept away.<p>

Hooky—or, 'Fernald' as Flo referred to him—was still holding tight to Isadora, and Flo was doing the same to Chubs, "Why?" Isadora mustered the courage to ask the snake, "Why has Olaf agreed to help you?"

"Oh, you'll find out presently." Howard was off-hand.

The boat had moored by now, and the passengers were running up the steps. But that wasn't Olaf—

"Violet?" Isadora gasped, "Sunny?"

Indeed, the two Baudelaire sisters made their way toward them, followed by PM2 and another boy who looked very much like him, Arthur Poe, Carmelita Spats and an LSPD officer who looked quite bedraggled.

"You've rounded up the whole cavalry haven't you, sister?" Chubs' eyes had gone wide as saucers on seeing the retinue that had come upon them.

Violet looked about to reply, when she noticed Duncan on the floor, "Duncan!" she cried, rushing over to be at his side. Just before she could bend over him, though, Howard lashed his serpentine tail out at her, knocking her down, "Sit still, you little wench!" he scowled, "Where's Count Olaf?"

"None of your damn business." frowned PM2, who had gone over to help Violet to her feet.

Carmelita was also looking at the prostrate Duncan, staying at a safe distance away from Howard, "What have you done to him?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"Something not nearly as bad as what I'll do to you if you don't shut your mouth." replied Howard coolly, "I ask again: Where is Olaf?"

"Right here!"

They all turned back to where the boat had been moored, and found Count Olaf trotting up the remaining stairs, followed by the faithful Tocuna and Enya.

When Flo saw her sister, she bolted over to her side, dropping Chubs on the floor, where he landed quite close to the helpless Xibaldo, "Tocuna!" she embraced her counterpart, "Tocuna, thank God you're alright!"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Tocuna sounded insulted, "It's all on my account that we've brought all of these captives here!"

"Shut up, you pasty-faced woman!" Olaf snapped. Everyone stared at him, "What?" receiving no answer, Olaf addressed Howard, "Sorry we're so late, but there was a mutiny on the boat you so generously provided me with."

The other man—likely PM2's brother—looked puzzled, "Wait, wait, wait! You're working for a talking snake? Why?"

"Very simple." Olaf sniffed contemptuously, "I lent the use of my associates," he gestured to Flo and Fernald, "To Howard, here, as part of our deal."

"Which was—" Isadora prompted him.

"Our deal was that I help him kill every soul in the Demon Room. In return, Howard would help my party and I escape to the sunlit lands."

"Sunlit lands?" PM2 raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up! Of course, I would also be allowed to keep the Baudelaires and Quagmires, in order to murder the majority of them and thus inherit their fortunes."

"Is that why you've let him shoot Duncan?" Isadora stepped on Fernald's foot—something she could have done before, though she hadn't wanted to endanger her brother's life.

"Yes." Olaf picked at his nails, nonchalantly, "Now, my dear, you are the only remaining member of the Quagmire family!"

"Wrong!" Alice stood up, striking a ridiculous pose, "Mother dearest!" she pointed to herself.

Olaf stared at her, "Who's this clown?"

"My mom."

"Your—" everyone among the new arrivals seemed particularly shocked. At last, Olaf managed, "_That_ is Alice Quagmire?"

"Yes." Isadora went on, "You don't have to worry about my father, though, he's dead as a doornail. He was Dr. Montgomery. Presumably, he changed his name after sending me and Duncan away to school and locking my mom down here."

Olaf was noticeably flabbergasted, "WHAT?" he moaned.

"Oh, and I apparently also have a long-lost brother." Isadora crossed her arms, enjoying playing around with this wicked mastermind.

There were more shocked ejaculations. Not _those_ ejaculations! Get your minds out of the gutter.

Violet gaped, "You have a brother? How do you suddenly know all this—"

"I'll tell you later." Isadora assured her friend, "Right now, I'd like this guy," she pointed at Howard, "To give an explanation."

Howard rolled his eyes, "Yes, I am a little overdo, aren't I? I shall began:"

HOWARD'S MONOLOGUE

"I have lived a tragic and tumultuous life. I was born in the wilderness—the first of a rare, hybrid species. My parents proceeded to eat each other, and my young life was ruined further by a man from the Board of Life Science in Dirty Bastard. He captured me, as a new species and brought me to the city. Note that this all happened on the same day. I was than auctioned off to a janitor for the Snicket, who had recently been appointed as an inventing professor for a school in the Dandruff Mountains. My species was christened: The Incredibly Deadly Viper, and it was decreed that no other vipers could be born. I was alone—young, naïve, and rather stupid.

"I was presented in class on a day in late winter, some eighteen years ago. The professor was incompetent from what I can remember, though a plucky student and her friend—actually the professor's own associate—rescued me from my captivity and carried me into a pine forest outside the school.

"I was grateful, so very, very grateful. I had not yet learned human speech, so I could not thank my rescuers properly. The odd thing was, the moment we came into the wood, the girl set me down on the banks of a stream, and she and the boy made love right before me. I was traumatized! I wondered if I would ever recover from the terror of the human reproductive system, witnessed in full force when I was still but a child!

"And even worse: while these two were in coitus, the girl's leg struck out, and I was knocked into the stream. Mind you, I was still in the cage that the professor had sealed me in. And I was trapped, whisked down from the slopes on the wild currents. At one point, I feared that I would be swept into the great sea. But no! I was carried along a tributary to a lake, a lake by a small town, the name of which I had never bothered to find out. On the shore of this lake, I was finally released from my cage by a girl of about seven. Her name was Belle, and she cared for me as though I were her very own.

"Only a child could look at a snake and think it innocent. Belle treated me with the utmost respect. She fed me, gave me a place to sleep, she even introduced me to her mother, who lived in an old house on a high cliff. Belle's mother, I did not like. She worked a position in Dirty Bastard, with the Snicket himself, and so she wasn't often around. Belle's father had died long before this. And so, it was just me in that house with Belle and a fidgety old housekeeper: Mrs. Rees-Toome.

And then one day, when Belle had recently turned ten, her mother returned, flushed red and excited. She was in high spirits, over finding love at last. Belle did not ask any further questions, but I had a feeling it was a workplace romance. This woman—what was her name? I can't remember now—looked upon me, how much bigger I had gotten over a course of three years.

"She announced that I was growing too quickly to have a place under her roof. Belle protested, sobbed my name into the night; it had been her, who had given me the name of Howard. That wretched old hag dumped me into the lake that I had come from, while her daughter watched.

"And I was floating adrift again. Though this time, there was no cage to hold me, and I was able to bear myself onto a rocky shore. I traveled the land for many years, stopping nowhere and making no friends. And then the news came to me: The Wicked B*tch of the West had terrorized Snicket Land for the last time. The Snicket's chief advisers assembled a group of men to go out into the world and kill her. I had put the pieces together now, going by the descriptions that were given of the B*tch, that she was the same terrible creature who had kicked me into the stream as a child, damning me to my wretched existence. Even better: Belle's mother organized the hunt! She never did recognize me as the pet her daughter had kept as a girl. I figured, that if I captured the B*tch and killed her, than Belle's mother would take me back into her household, where Belle herself might still be waiting for me.

In the end I, out of hundreds, was selected to find and kill the B*tch. Myself, as well as a masked man who called himself 'The Bald Avenger'. I didn't like him much, but we did not speak to each other often on our quest. Figuring that the Wicked B*tch of the West would live in the west, that was the direction in which we headed. As we were crossing the Dark Forest, I was separated from the Avenger, for I had seen someone whom I had thought I would never see again: Belle.

"At first, she did not recognize me, but when I twinkled at her with my green eyes,she noticed. How happy she was! All thoughts of the Bald Avenger and my trip west were interrupted as Belle took me home. To her new home. She now lived in a villa, the very one that lies above all of our heads. She had become the lab assistant of Dr. Montgomery Montgomery, the rejected biologist.

"Belle did not mention her mother, so I did not. We chatted, as we had always done: with me moving my head, tail and tongue, so Belle could understand me. We talked and talked for hours upon hours of all the lost days and weeks and years. When night began to fall, Montgomery asked Belle what the devil did she think she was doing spending so much time with his 'new specimen'. A look of terrible shock spread over Belle's face. She tried to protest, but it was as futile as it had been when we were first separated. Montgomery struck her. Struck her so hard that tracks of blood appeared on her cheek.

"Montgomery took me down to his lab—that little room beneath his study. There, he performed tests and experiments, the first of many. To think back to those disgusting procedures would cause my mettle to shake down around me, so I shall not go into detail on them. Montgomery then locked me away, like all of the men, women, children and animals that he tested on, in the Demon Room. It was then, on one night, that my tongue was no longer heavy with hisses and snarls. The serums that Montgomery had slipped me had given me the power of speech.

"The other inmates—all dead now, of course—saw this and, on noticing my sharp intellect, elected me as their new leader. The old monarch: a purple octopus, had killed himself a few weeks prior to my imprisonment. And so it was for these past months. I presided over each one of the manic meetings that were held in that great receiving room which, if my plans have succeeded, is completely underwater by now.

"And now, to my plan. I committed these murders for one reason: revenge. Revenge on Montgomery, for locking me up here. Revenge on Belle, for never trying to rescue me. Revenge on every single one of those fools I had shared my prison with, for being too dim to make any decisions of their own! I did have an ultimate goal, though: escape. Escape from these dark lands—to head off to the outside world! And this is how I did it: I knew, from the moment that I had been cast away in the Demon Room, that my body was particularly suited to the task of creeping through dark crevices. The drainage pipes that connected the room to the surface were too secure. But the cracks in the crumbling walls were perfectly suited to the task of my escape. But, the cracks would not lead to the sunlight—just Montgomery's offices, a little higher up than the Demon Room.

"It took a bit of a while to explore every crevice and crack in the place, but at last, I found one. I slipped through it, and found myself just outside of Montgomery's control room. This was shortly after Belle had been brought to you, and had given you your weapons. Montgomery was just in the process of shutting down his house's power and sealing all the exits, when I bit his ankle. He fell to the floor, badly wounded. While Montgomery was incapacitated, I did some maneuvering with his control panels. It was I who split your party up, to different torture chambers, or parts of the villa.

"After this was done, I made use of one of Montgomery's maneuverable pieces of furniture. I controlled a reading lamp, setting it to bludgeoning Belle to death. That was my first task done. I then curled myself around Montgomery and tossed him into the surveillance panel. He was fried like the dirty criminal he was.

"What follows is a little complicated. I let your group split up, in hopes that Montgomery's traps would finish all of you off. And, as I am sure you are wondering, the voice that two of you heard in that bathroom was a recording set up by Montgomery. There were no keys transplanted in your stomachs. Montgomery did away with many, using that ruse. I knew now, that I needed an ally. I found one in the form of Count Olaf. It was I who showed him the secret exit from the lagoon of Molars the Great White. In return, I asked for him to lend me his services—his own brand of genius, as well as his associates. I found the hook-handed one first, and roped him into helping me stand guard on this pyramid. Next to join us was Flo, who did not yet know of her employer's plans. Luckily, she listened to Fernald's explanation, and assisted me.

"And now, my work is almost done. Montgomery and Belle are dead. So are the majority of those whom I shared the Demon Room with these past few months. You might have wondered what this pyramid and this brass mechanism were used for. This was originally an entrance. Montgomery had kept these catacombs from years before he had bought the villa. His wife didn't know, of course. The tunnels extending from the house are newer, and were added after the villa became Montgomery's residence.

"The brass device is an elevator, and a rather large one at that. It operates using a series of sturdy chains that extend through that funnel like passage running into the ceiling above us. Count Olaf, his assistants, and I will be leaving through there, with certainty. Unfortunately, there is no room for any of you lot, especially with a wounded boy on your hands. The water won't rise any higher, I can tell you, so you should all be safe for a few months, if you decide to eat each other. And it is now that I make my exit."

END OF MONOLOGUE

Isadora couldn't believe this. Howard had lied to her—he wasn't planning on helping her at all. She would die in this pit. She would die, along with her friends, her brother, and the rest of them.

The police-woman stepped forward, "This is really astonishing, sure enough. But one of my deputies was killed! Who did that, eh?"

Howard did that little shrugging thing again, saying, "I don't know. I suppose you'll never find out, what?"

He tossed his shotgun to Olaf, who beamed, "I'm terribly sorry to leave you all like this." he mocked them. Directing his gaze on Isadora, he went on, "And I suppose that I'll never have a chance at the Quagmire fortune. But as for that of the Baudelaires—" he lunged, pushing Violet to the ground and snatching Sunny from her arms, "I still have a chance. You'll all starve to death down here, and I can use dear Sunny to get the money!" he cackled with malicious glee.

Sunny struggled, bit, kicked, did everything she could, but Olaf sneered at her, "I'll get my revenge on you yet, you little louse!"

Sunny was appalled, "Krimanka?" she screeched, meaning: "Revenge? You're the one who abandoned me! Many times!"

"Little details like that are insignificant!" Olaf snapped, "Now, let us hurry. I'd like to see my dearest Kit again."

"And I'd like to smell fresh air." Tocuna beamed.

"And I would like to hear birdsong." added Enya.

"I'd like to feel the sun on my hooks." Fernald eyed his grim appendages with satisfaction.

"And I'd like to see The Book of Mormon on Snicket-way!" Flo gave a longing sigh.

"Yes, yes, we'll do all of that, just hurry!" Olaf yelled at them. Howard had already slunk into the elevator.

Violet was still sprawled on the floor. She seemed to have twisted an ankle in her fall. She looked at her brother, "Chubs! Get Sunny!"

Chubs snapped out of some sort of distracted trance, and Isadora hurried with him to Olaf, though by the time they crossed the top of the pyramid, the group of villains—plus their captive—had entered the elevator. Howard wound himself around a winch that was inside it, and the whole device clattered and clanged up the chute.

They were alone now. And they had lost Sunny.

A/N: That was something, wasn't it? Howard's monologue was fun to do. I always love the exposition part of mysteries. But there is one little question that remains: Who killed Deputy Sandbag? Well, you'll find out for yourselves later. How much later? A mystery—

Also, Sunny's going away with Olaf again! Though this time, it isn't of her own free will!

Find out what happens to our trapped heroes next chapter, and thanks for sticking with us after all this time! You don't know how good it is to hear from you guys!

Update Coming Next Friday!:)


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11, In Which All Powers of Suspense are Stretched to the Limit

Disclaimer: Nothing is ours but what little remains of my integrity. _Whatever _happened to that old thing?

A/N: And here we are! We are nearing the conclusion of this, Book 5—with eight to go. We'll be up half the night cranking out chapters, I'm sure, but never fear! It'll all work out in the end. Thanks to the Nerdy Mirror Maze Queen for reviewing the last several chapters; we love that you love us! And so, without further ado, let's begin!

Violet clutched Duncan's prone hand in hers. It was cold—than again, it had been cold for some time now. He was still breathing, though every breath was shallow, and shook tremulously.

Chubs held Isadora's shoulder, looking up at the chute through which his baby sister had been taken from him. Isadora would every now and again go to Violet and her brother and ask, "How's he doing?" to which Violet would reply in brief, not-all-there sentences.

PM1 and PM2 were conversing in sharp tones. PM1 was all for starting the cannibal feast there and then, by ripping Poe to shreds. PM2 was still haplessly trying to think of an escape plan, though his lack of practical thinking skills was hindering him.

Poe himself was chatting with Xibaldo, whom he had moved from the edge of the pyramid. Xibaldo was teaching Poe his favorite game: dust counting. So far, they were tied at five-hundred-fifty-five-thousand specks of dust.

Carmelita was desperately eager to be at Duncan's side, but Violet looked so intent, that she was afraid of disturbing her. She would look PM1's way every now and again, only to see that he wasn't paying much notice to anything besides his argument with his brother.

Strauss was pacing the length of the pyramid. Her face was pursed in a fierce expression of concentration. She was determined to find a way out of here. For she still had to find Sandbag's killer. The fact that she was sharing her prison with the three people whom she suspected most of slewing her deputy, only served to sour her even more.

It was quiet. Only the sounds of the brackish, filthy, dead black sewer water met the ears of the captives. It was maddening, so much that barely two hours had passed, when someone snapped: PM1 pounced, cat-like on Poe and began biting him veraciously, in an attempt to eat him alive. PM2 ran forward and attempted to pull his brother off, but this was a determined character. For does not everyone know not to disturb a beast of prey when it is dining?

"Stop it! Stop it, I say!" PM2 was much distressed when he hauled his brother away from the distraught Poe and onto the floor, "What in God's name do you think you're doing?" he asked, panting heavily.

"I need to eat! I haven't had a meal since yesterday afternoon!"

"You don't go around eating innocent men alive!"

They lapsed back into their ceaseless arguing once again, while Violet suddenly remembered something, "Of course!"

"What?" Isadora moved to her, "Have you figured out a way to help Duncan?"

"Yes and no. It won't heal the wound, but it may move it on the path to healing."

She proceeded to unbutton her bodice, to which Isadora gaped in disgust., "Calm down, Isadora. It's not what you think!" Violet waved the matter aside and pulled a pitch black bottle from within her dress. As she festooned her bodice up again, Violet addressed everyone present, "This is the antidote my aunt gave to me when we escaped the carnival. It's the last one. If we can turn Duncan back to what he was before, maybe the wound will have a better chance of closing—"

PM2's freshmen biology entered sailing on a rubber raft, "YOU WILL FAIL YOUR EXAMS, BECAUSE YOU ARE AN IGNORANT DOLT!"

He popped back into the raft and sailed out out of sight. Violet continued, "It might help him, at least."

She uncorked the bottle and slipped the slimy concoction through Duncan's lips. The boy sputtered and coughed, though he managed to swallow. Duncan began writhing and squirming in what seemed to be intense pain. But the antidote was taking its effect. As Violet held Duncan's hand, she felt warmth returning to it at last. His skin began to revert back to it's pale, slightly freckled shade. And even his hair began to be flecked with sandy blonde, and the white in it faded.

Isadora laughed, though it could be seen that she was holding back tears, "Well," she said, "at least now he'll die in his normal body."

"He will _not _die, Isadora." Violet assured her, "Now this is what I want you to do." she tucked some stray wisps of hair back into her ponytail before going on, "Watch Duncan, take some water and dab it on his forehead." Violet looked down at her sleeve and ripped it off, "Use this to bind the wound,. Make sure he doesn't bleed any further than he already is. If he begins to speak, for God's sake talk back to him. If he feels that he's rooted in reality, he has got to be kept talking. Chubs," she looked at her brother, "pay attention, now, you have the most important job."

Chubs snapped to attention like a soldier ready to receive orders.

"You are going to dismantle the elevator."

Chubs' mouth fell open more than can be thought humanly possible, "B-but," he stammered, "How will we ever escape then?"

"You'll find out." Violet told him in her firmest voice, "Just get working!" she turned to the Plot Murderers, "You two seem to work best as a team. I want you to help Chubs with breaking down the elevator."

PM2 nodded, "Of course, we'll do anything if it means getting out of here." on seeing that his brother was examining his nails, PM2 nudged him in the ribs. PM1 snapped out of it, "Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah—whatever."

Violet looked at Carmelita, "I want you and Mr. Poe to watch Mrs. Quagmire." she looked at Alice, who was dribbling Xibaldo as though he were a basketball, "Make sure she doesn't kill him."

Finally, she spoke to Strauss, "What's your name?"

"Strauss." was all she replied, "Lieutenant Strauss."

"Okay then, Lieutenant. Now I know you're probably freaking out because the 'Baudelaire murderers' are right in front of you—"

"_You're_ the Baudelaire murderers?" Strauss yelped reaching for the club at her belt.

"You can chase us and arrest us all you want once we're out of here. For now, I want you to to make a fire."

"A fire?" Strauss was insulted, "I'm an officer, not a Girl Scout!"

"Do you want to make it out of here, or not?"

Strauss sighed, "Very well. But how am I to make a fire. It's damp and cold, down here."

"You've underwent survival training at the LSPD Academy, correct?"

"Well, yes—"

"Than you should have learned how to make a fire."

And thus, the group set to work.

* * *

><p>THIRTY MINUTES LATER<p>

"KISS ME BENEATH THE MILKY TWILIGHT! LEAD ME, ONTO THE MOONLIT FLOOR—" Alice was in high good spirits again. Though for what reason, none of them knew.

The others were all carrying our the deeds presented to them by Violet. Strauss had garnered the supplies for making a fire, using Isadora's make-up mirror, a matchstick, and a heap of old fabric that she had made from Duncan's jacket. This blaze was crackling merrily in the center of their platform, sending smoke curling up the chute and out into the great expanse that some people have dubbed: the outside world.

Carmelita and Poe were performing reasonably well at the grueling job of making sure Alice didn't go wild. Poe had succeeded in extracting Xibaldo from her arms, by singing a song he had learned about cookies being a sometimes food. Alice had jumped at the opportunity to recite a new song, and had immediately struck up the first bars.

The two Plot Murderers and Chubs were pulling apart the elevator with difficulty. There had come a point when a small thumbscrew had gone missing, and a furious search has broken out, until it had been discovered up Alice's nose.

Isadora had bound Duncan's wound with Violet's sleeve, and was watching him intently, hoping for his face to show some sense of recognition.

"How's it going?" Violet crossed to her, looking down at the invalid.

"His breathing's getting better." Isadora said, quite faintly, "I think the antidote we gave him helped."

Violet felt a pure joy rush into her, "Oh, thank God!" she swept her friend into a hug and swung her full circle.

Isadora gave an airy laugh, "Vi, this is all thanks to you! Your idea—"

Violet passed a finger over Isadora's lips, "No. You're tending to him wonderfully. Look, there's already color coming back into his cheeks."

Indeed, a rosy hue was coming into Duncan's face, flushing it with a sense of wholeness. He was recovering.

"Just keep watching." Violet turned from Isadora and made her way to the elevator, where she found the three boys were having an immense share of trouble with their tinkering, "What—" Violet stared, "What the devil are you guys doing?"

Chubs gave a sheepish grin, "We seem to have—er—"

"Yes?"

PM2 held up what looked like a bike chain, "I think we've broken the runner."

Violet paled. The runner! The cord that was entirely responsible for the elevator being able to 'elevate', as it were.

"Okay." Violet sighed, trying to keep calm, "That's alright. We can fix this—"

"Actually, we can't." PM1 became rather shifty eyed, "That crazy old woman ate one of the wheel-thingies."

"You mean one of the cogs?" Violet's jaw dropped, "Oh dear God!" she wailed, "What is wrong with you people? Okay, stand back!" she pushed Chubs aside, the others grouping back with him, "I am going to handle this!"

"Are you?" Chubs sounded skeptical.

"Shut up, Chubs! Go and keep Alice occupied or something!"

The trio backed off, and Violet concentrated all of her skills on the jumble of brass pieces that were heaped up before her.

In her mind, she thought of things that could replace cogs and runner-cords. Not fabric, much too flimsy. Rope, maybe; provided it was thick enough. But where could one find rope in such a place as this? She needed to think of something different, "Lieutenant Strauss!"

The officer looked up from the fire, which she was feeding, "Yes?"

"Take this!" she handed her the lead pipe—the very one that Chubs had been given as his weapon—and, ripping off her one remaining sleeve, wrapped it around the pipe.

Keeping a sturdy hold of the fabric end, Violet held the pipe over the fire, heating it up as though it were a welder's torch. Once the pipe was searing white hot, Violet gently lent it over to the elevator, which had now been gutted of all its innards. She had to soften the brass. She had been planning to use Strauss' fire as an incentive for the elevator to rise, but now the flame would lend a hand in breaking the elevator down to the element of which it had originally been hewn.

The brass of the elevator began to soften., growing mushy. This was good enough. Violet held the pipe in the water and watched as it steamed and fizzled, cooling down.

Suddenly, there came a great roar of sound. Violet turned, shocked, and saw Alice reciting the entirety of Mozart's Requiem.

Violet shrugged this off, and, surveying the softened brass, began to reassemble the device. In doing this, Violet ended up sacrificing three bits of of her skirts, the sash she wore at her waist, and three handkerchiefs that she had discovered in her pocket. The end result resembled an odd, brownish-gold monstrosity, knotted up with cloth and silk.

Violet eased her way through the crooked doors and into the little compartment of the elevator. The floor here was constructed of a sort of shimmering, black stone. The iron winch that Howard had used to bring up his own party stood in the corner, though the conniving serpent had ensured of his enemies' imprisonment by slathering the contraption with grease—where this grease had come from, Violet did not want to think.

"I need leather!" Violet called over her shoulder, "Does anyone have leather?"

Chubs beamed and trotted over to her, removing his right shoe and chewing it, so as to remove the sole, "This is leather, sister!"

Violet grimaced, taking the slobber-ridden thing between her middle and index fingers, "Thanks, Chubs."

After wringing the goo off of the sole, Violet proceeded to run the thing along the winch, causing the grease to become more malleable. Once the grease had congealed enough, Violet used the empty antidote bottle as a salver to collect the ooze.

"Guys!" she stood up, excited, "Guys, I've done it!"

"Really!" Poe looked up from his conversation with Xibaldo and slammed his chest with rapture, "Good heavens, girl! You've saved us all!"

"We just have to hurry, before the brass hardens again and we get stuck in a jammed elevator halfway up the chute."

"I hate elevators!" Carmelita said, shrilly, "They make me uncomfortable!"

"You claustrophobic?" wondered PM1.

"No, I'm a Gemini."

PM1 rolled his eyes, whilst PM2 helped Isadora get Duncan to his feet, "Steady—" he told her as they lifted the boy, "Steady—WHOA, NELLY!" For Isadora had stubbed her toe on a loose flagstone, and Duncan had tumbled onto PM2's feet.

"Sorry!" Isadora was apologetic as they hoisted her brother up again.

This trio were the first in the elevator, followed by Chubs, PM1, Poe—carrying Xibaldo, with whom he was now a good friend—Carmelita, and Strauss, who had just put out her fire with some of the sewage.

Violet watched them all file in, and once she was sure there was room enough for all of them, squeezed herself inside as well, "Careful of the sides!" she warned the others, "They might still be a little warm!"

"Let's hurry out of here, please!" Strauss demanded, as she tried not to be pressed too far into the corner.

"Someone pull the winch!" Violet ordered.

The nearest person to the winch was Poe, who held Xibaldo under his arm so he could activate the elevator.

The group let out a grand cheer as they began slowly but surely rising up from the pyramid. Looking down, they could make out the gray stones of their platform, the filthy newly-formed lake dotted with the bodies of the Demon Room inmates, and Olaf's old motor boat.

"Thank you." Carmelita became very awkward as she addressed Violet, "You've saved us!"

Violet, too, felt awkward at being spoken in this way from her school-time rival, and said, "You're welcome, Carmelita."

Carmelita paused a bit before saying something else, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For chasing after Duncan. I know that he's lost interest in me. I think I should come to terms with that."

The elevator began to move up through the chute, now, and the darkness was uncomfortable for more than one of them. Violet smiled, "It's alright, Carmelita. We all have our crushes—"

"Yeah." Carmelita chuckled, "All the same, I think I've finally found the one."

"Who?"

Had the light been better in the chute, Violet might have seen Carmelita's green eyes veer toward PM1, but all she said was, "I don't think I'd better tell anyone just yet."

Violet nodded. She understood; she herself had waited quite some time to make her love for Duncan public.

"Look! Look!" Strauss cried, pointing up, "Sunlight! Fresh air!"

They all cheered again, as the elevator came out into the light.

A/N: Interesting, no? This was sort of a short chapter, and there was technically only one scene if you don't count the 'thirty minutes later' thing, break, which I don't. Well, now that the heroes have escaped the catacombs, we will have one more story chapter, followed by the usual nonsense chappie to close the story. Please tune in next time for _Days of Our—_I mean _A Series of Queer Events._

Have a great week.

Update Coming Next Friday!:)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12, Two Paths Diverged in a Wood—We're Lost, Aren't We?

Disclaimer: If only I _did_ own something. Well, I do have a smashing Supremes Record from some decades back—never mind, that.

A/N: And it is time, at long last, for our smashing finale! We'll be posting this chapter, the last one relevent to the story, along with Chapter 13, which will be the traditional nonsense chapter. And therefore and therein, let's hop right into Snicket Land for our salutations and—etc. etc.

Light flooded their eyes. Blinking, they looked around and saw what they never thought they'd ever see again: Trees, ferns, squirrels. The sounds of birdsong resonated in the air. A stream ran through the rocks a few yards off, tinkling merrily on the bed of pebbles. A deer eyed them wearily before scampering away.

Isadora felt the need to touch everything; she needed to know that this was all real. She ran her hands down the rough trunks of the oaks and beeches, waved her fingers to and fro in the gurgling stream water and cupped some of the red earth in her hands, letting the woodsy aroma waft up through her nostrils. She took Chubs' hands in hers and breathed, "This is it! We're out!"

Chubs kissed her, spinning her around in his arms, "Indeed we are, my love."

Violet went to the stream and hand-fed some water to Duncan, "The air's doing him good." she smiled, "We all ought to drink a bit. It would help us to move out faster."

They all gathered on the water's edge and drank their fill. Xibaldo, though, was exuberant: he let himself bob up and down in the water and drift about like a great marble, "I haven't been outside in years! Oh, this is a marvel! An absolute marvel!"

"Wha—why is there so much light?" came a familiar voice.

"Duncan!" Violet grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him to his feet, "Oh, my God, you're alright!" she laughed.

"Duncan!" Isadora was the next to wrap her arms around him, nearly knocking him to the floor.

"Steady!" Duncan groaned, falling back down again, "I'm still a little wobbly. My hands!" he had just noticed that he was looking just as he always had, before he had been mutated. He felt his face, ran his hands through his hair, and kissed Violet, "Oh, I feel a wonder!" he next looked at his sister, "Isadora!" he hugged her, sweeping her into his arms, "We made it out!"

His eyes widened, suddenly, and he hastily unbuttoned his shirt, so as to examine the wound that Howard's shotgun had inflicted on him. It was no longer bleeding, though it was still a fright to behold, "I suppose there'll be a nasty scar. But that can't be helped."

Chubs opened his arms and positively beamed, "Duncan, old fellow!"

The two boys embraced. Carmelita looked on, feeling like a stranger. She wanted so much to at least go up to Duncan and say how happy she was for him to be safe. But he didn't look her way, he didn't even seem to realize that she was there.

This was not her moment. She had no place in this happy reunion. Carmelita's place was with Esme Squalor—she had to find her, and Dewey, too. She had to see if they were all right; be part of the family that Esme always talked of having.

Turning to go, Carmelita felt a hand on her arm. It was PM1, "Where are you going?" he looked puzzled, "You could easily get lost out in these woods."

"You seem suddenly interested in my well-being." Carmelita scoffed, "You haven't spoken to me at all, since you met your brother!"

"I just want to know why you're wandering around in the woods!"

"I'm leaving. I have no more business with any of these people. I have people of my own to find."

She made to go, again, and again PM1 held her, "Look," he said, "we'll go with you, if you want. PM2 and I, I mean."

Carmelita's face flushed, "I do not need a chaperone." her eyes burnt with an emerald fire, "As a matter of fact, this forest should be painfully easy to navigate."

PM1 was insistent, "Listen, Carmelita." he sighed, "PM2 and I have nowhere to go. We don't belong in this place, and all I'm asking is—can we go with you?"

"I think your brother would rather stay here. With her." her gaze roved over to PM2, who was talking to Violet, and shaking hands with Duncan.

"Believe me, he wants to go back just as much as I do." PM1 took on a pleading manner that did not suit him, "Please! I can't stay in this place, any longer Carmelita. Let us go with you! We won't get in the way or anything like that! Please."

Carmelita looked at him—they had saved each other several times on their travels together. Her journey through the wilderness would take some time, and there would be any number of perils to get in her way. They could be there for each other again.

"Oh, you really do make this hard!" she smiled, pulling him in to kiss her. She ran her fingers through his light curls, and took in the smell of sewage and muck that simply emanated from him.

"Thanks!" PM1 hugged her, "Thanks a million!"

He looked over at his brother, "Number Two!" he called, "Say your goodbyes, we're leaving!"

"You're going away?" the smile that had lit up Violet's face receded, "Why?"

PM2 sighed, "PM1 wants to head back home as soon as possible. I told him that we'd be better off staying with the rest of you, but he's too eager to go back to that other place. The one we came from."

"The only person I know of that can be a help to you," Violet's brow furrowed in frustration, "Is the Snicket. But you can't go to Dirty Bastard! It's too dangerous, there!"

"What—?"

"Listen, to me." Violet said firmly, "Lemony Snicket cannot be trusted. He's a conniving snake with no morals, whatsoever. Please, please, please, stay with us! We'll find another way!"

PM2 lay a hand on Violet's shoulder, "I think that us 'Marty-Stus' have polluted your world long enough."

Duncan was suddenly at Violets shoulder, "We're losing your company so soon? Don't you fellows want to see the slopes of the Dandruff Mountains? That's where we're headed next!"  
>"You're going to find Sunny?" PM2 guessed.<p>

Violet nodded, "Kit Snicket's chateau is on the highest peak. Olaf said he was taking Sunny there."

"And that is where we shall go." Duncan finished for her.

PM2 smiled, "PM1 and I will find a way home. We're traveling with Carmelita to—wherever."

"So, this is—goodbye?"

"Yeah. But we'll keep in touch."

Violet let loose with a bittersweet laugh, "I don't think there'll be much a chance for that."

PM2 looked her in the face, "I'll think about you all every day, and every night. You and Chubs—even Sunny."

Violet gave a half-smile, "Good luck."

They embraced one last time, and PM2 went over to his brother, and Carmelita, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." PM1 put his arm around Carmelita's middle, "I think we're good."

Carmelita set her hand on PM1's arm and gently pulled it off, "I think I'm perfectly capable of walking for myself!" to testify this great truth, Carmelita turned on her heel and found herself stumbling over a root and into the stream a mere two seconds later.

Carmelita sputtered and retched, hacking water out of her system. Finally, she let out a ragged gasp and allowed PM1 to help her out of the stream, "That is not to be taken as evidence against me!" she wheezed, only half-joking.

"Come on, doll-face." PM1 laughed, leading her into the trees. PM2 followed close behind, looking back to the Baudes and Quags for one last time, before fading into the thicket with the others.

Strauss had been standing by the great beech, observing, but not talking.

This rejoicing and jubilee seemed entirely foreign to her. What had they to celebrate? They were all still in the middle of nowhere, a baby child had just been carried off, and there seemed to be no more happiness for anyone to look to.

And Sandbag was dead. He was never coming back—and his killer was still loose. Who had killed Sandbag? What had killed Strauss' beloved deputy? She needed to find the killer; needed to avenge Sandbag once-and-for-all.

To do that, she need not stay here. Here, with the Baudelaire-Quagmire murderers. She could have captured them, but what thanks would that have been after they had saved her? The red-headed girl and the other boy had left, to go wherever the forest trails might take them. Thus, the only one of the three criminals she had originally been pursuing that still remained, was the fat one.

But she was beyond this ridiculous game of cat-and-mouse. Let these convicts wander in the wood until they died—Strauss would troop across the wild, wild wood. She would return to Dirty Bastard, and then she would declare a manhunt for Sandbag's killer.

She would have that rat found. First, she had to make it to the city.

She wanted no more to do with these murderers. She would not apprehend them, nor would she tell her superiors in Dirty Bastard that she had seen them. But she would not help them, they seemed fully capable of taking care of themselves. Let someone else capture them.

And in this way, did Strauss set out on her own quest.

Isadora suddenly felt a foreboding. The sort of prickling one gets on the back of their neck, when something devilish is occurring, or has occurred, without their noticing, "Where's Mom?" she asked, "Where is she?" she looked all around her, her hair whipping around her head.

"Dear God!" Duncan croaked, his voice breaking, "Isadora, look at this."

Isadora went over to him, and saw what he held in his hand. A piece of tatty gingham fabric. Part of the frock that Alice had been wearing, and possibly had had on since she was first locked in the Demon Room. This piece of cloth showed tearing, and there were red spots scattered along it, "I found it in amongst those nettles, yonder." Duncan nodded over to the outcrop of brambles that grew as tall as horses.

"There's footprints." Chubs pointed, "See? There—and there." Indeed, there were indentations in the nettles, showing that someone had recently passed through them.

"We've got to go after her!" Isadora made to bolt off into the trees.

"We don't have to." Violet pointed to the east. Following her gaze, the other children saw the little stone, lying on the stream-bed, on which someone had traced—using the filmy green residue of river algae—the words: I HAVE A HORSE NAMED SAL, FIFTEEN MILES ON THE SWERVY CANAL!

"She went swimming—" Isadora trailed off, "She swam _up_ the Swervy Stream."

"Well, we're headed that way, anyway." Duncan gave his sister's hand a reassuring squeeze, "Never fear. We'll find her."

"And now we have three reasons to ascend into the Mountains." Chubs said grimly, "Sunny, Alice Quagmire—and that brother of yours, Isadora."

"How?" was all the Quagmire sister was able to get out, "How are we going to get up there? The current's too strong—how could Alice even manage—?"

"Isadora." Violet put a staying hand on her friend's hand, "Your mom's a strong woman. I'm sure she'll be able to—"

"To what, Violet?" Isadora snapped rounding on her, "To make it upslope through freezing cold water? To not be smashed against a rock? She will drown up there, and so will we if we try to follow her!"

"Nonsense!" said Duncan firmly, "We'll build a boat, and we'll catch up with Mum straight away!"

Isadora was downcast, though, very slowly, she nodded her head, "Yeah. Yeah, it'll work."

And the two Baudes and the two Quags, set to work. They were working for a common goal. They were friends, who had friends in danger.

For it is true that no friends are better than friends who are family. The Baudes and the Quags did not have much, but what they had was their bond—and their familial bond was what would lead them to the people they searched for.

A/N: Another short one, I know. This one was just about as long as the previous chapter—about four pages. We just have one nonsense chapter left, and with it, an announcement of the next book, the theme of which you have probably guessed by now. And—well, you can just read the last chapter now. It's already up.

Update Coming Right Now!:)


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13, And Then There Was a House-Party

Disclaimer: It's terribly funny that, after all the time we've spent together, some of us must harbor the delusion that I own ASOUE. Actually, truth be told, none of you think I own the books. Why do we still do these disclaimers, anyway?

A/N: I'll give out the usual speech at the end of the chapter. You know, Book 6 sneak peeks and all that. And for now, enjoy the plot-irrelevent stupidity!

I really should have learned by know. Whatever madness had possessed me to invite the cast over for Book 4 had taken over again.

The drawing room—in which no drawing is done, as a matter of fact—was packed. I had had to organized catering, in order to keep these people fed, and the fumes from the pans were rippling in the air.

Once again, a karaoke stage had been organized, this time in my the study—the study, was really just the room where I sat at a desk and typed like mad in my free time..The dais that had been constructed in the middle of the room was made up of pieces of aforementioned desk, and the karaoke machinery that had been set up on it was interfering with my wireless connection.

"Why are you typing?" asked an annoyingly familiar voice, "This is a party!"

I turned to look at PM1, "I have to get Book 6 up by the end of the week!"

"You're no fun, you know that?" he scowled at me.

"Live with it." I replied drily.

"HEY, EVERYBODY!" another voice bounded off the walls.

"Oh crap." I moaned, "Who invited her?"

"I did." PM1 looked at me, "What do you have against crazy people?"  
>Alice marched through the room as through she were a prized fighting cock—as in, a rooster. Get your minds out of the gutter—and mounted her way onto the dais.<p>

"I'M GONNA SING A SONG!" Alice cackled, "HIT IT!"

MANIC MONDAY {by the Bangles}

Alice: Wake up in the morning, I was just in the middle of a dream.

I was kissing Valentino by a moon-blinked Italian stream.

These are the days when you wish your bed was already made—

IT'S JUST ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY!

I WISH IT WAS SUNDAY—

BECAUSE THAT'S MY FUN-DAY!

MY 'I-DON'T-HAVE-TO-RUN-DAY!

Poe: {speaking} Hyphens rock!

Alice: {singing} IT'S JUST ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY!

Carmelita: {speaking} This song blows! Try this one on for size:

{she skips onto the stage, besides Alice}

Carmelita: {speaking} I'll just cut to the chase—

{singing}

Partying, partying, WOO!

Partying, partying, WOO!

IT'S FRIDAY! FRIDAY! GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY!

Partying, partying, WOO!

Alice: {overlapping her} JUST ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY!

Carmelita: {also overlapping} PARTYING, PARTYING, WOO! PARTYING, PARTYING, WOO!

Alice: —THAT' S MY FUN-DAY!

Carmelita: —GOTTA GET DOWN—

Alice: MY 'I-DON'T-HAVE-TO-RUN-DAY'—

Carmelita: IT'S FRIDAY—FRIDAY—

Alice: JUST ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY—

Carmelita: {snapping, speaking} THAT SONG SUCKS!

Alice: AND ALSO WITH YOU!

{the two women rush upon each other and begin a frantic tussle, in which the expensive karaoke equipment is tossing about, clothes are torn, and noses are bit}

Xibaldo: Stop this fighting! Stop it, I say!

{someone throws an amp at him, causing him to bound madly off the walls like an oversized rubber ball}

Help! Help! _Polizia!_

Chubs: Somebody save him! He'll bash his brains out!

Duncan: Why in blue blazes are we still in script form? The singing is long passed!

PM2: I'm waiting for a proper transition point!

Belle: {who has been resurrected for just as long as this chapter lasts} SILENCE! I WISH TO SING A RANDOM SONG THAT JUST POPPED INTO MY HEAD!

PM1: Fire away. Speaking of fire, I think we left the pot roast in the oven.

{the wailing of the smoke alarm sets in, and PM1 exits. Belle ascends to the stage and sings}

STILL ALIVE {from Portal}

Belle: This was a triumph.

I'm making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS.

It's hard to overstate my satisfaction.

Biological science. We do what we must because we're sick.

For the good of all of us—except the ones who are dead.

But there's no use crying over every mistake.

You just keep on trying till you run out of cake.

And the science gets done, and you make a neat gun to kill the people who are still alive.

I'm not even angry.

I'm being so sincere right now.

Even though you broke my heart and killed me.

And tore me to pieces.

And threw every piece into a fire.

And as they burned, it hurt because I was so happy for you.

Now these points of beta make a beautiful line.

And we're out of beta, we're releasing on time.

So I'm glad I got burned. Think of all the things we learned.

For the people who are still alive.

Go ahead and leave me—

Tocuna: {speaking} SHUT UP!

Belle: Excuse me? I'm trying to sing!

Isadora: Where's Mom?

{Alice and Carmelita surface behind the bookcase, still engaged in a vicious scuffle}

Alice: I'LL CRUSH YOUR BONES!

Carmelita: You smell like old cabbage and feet!

Alice: AROO! AROO!

Carmelita: I'll claw your eyes out!

{they begin tossing the furniture about, defacing the books that have fallen on the floor, and beating each other over the head with bits of bricabrack}

PM2: No! No! MY STUDY!

{PM1 dashes in, screaming the dickens}

PM1: The stove's exploded! The kitchen's on fire!

Violet: Everyone, quickly! Out of the house!

Sunny: Reddingburg! {"Women and children first!"}

Olaf: To the hills!

{he jumps out the window}

Howard: Tootles!

{he slithers out through an air-vent as smoke begins to funnel in through the doorway}

PM2: Why do I even do these stupid gathering anymore?

Xibaldo: I think that fellow, Olaf, had a good idea, earlier!

{he bounces off one wall and out through the window}

Enya: Follow his lead!

{one by one, everyone leaps out the window, until only I am left}

PM2: Why? Why is everything so cruel to me?

THE CURTAIN FALLS

A/N: Finito! And so, Book 5 comes to an end. We're five down, with eight to go! Now, I suppose that some of you have already guessed the identity of the next book. For those who don't yet know, it is Book 10: The Slippery Slope. And we all know which beloved shipping character can be found in this book, don't we? Here's a hint: his name starts with 'Quig' and ends with 'ley'. Now, you probably have less of an idea as to what genre we'll be parodying for Book 6. To do that, we'll start with an overview of these past five books, and their genre spoofing:

The Queer Academy: High school drama/soppy teenage romance

The Crappy Village: Murder mystery

The Third Peril: Musical/Thriller

The Wicked Carnival: Musicals again—specifically Wicked and The Phantom of the Opera—as well as stage drama, in general

The Demon Room: Horror/Survival

And now, comes a deviation from all of that with The Enchanted Slope, which will parody the sub-genre of fantasy that I like to call: 'the Disney genre'.

Yep, we're heading into the mountains complete with an array of Disney-inspired scenes, songs, and some new characters that I characterized in the most Disney villain-esque way, possible. There will also be a new protagonist whom I stylized to model the ideal Disney Princess.

So, stay ready!

Book 6 Coming Next Friday!:)


End file.
